Of Amortentia & Polyjuice Potion
by arainymonday
Summary: The foundations of four relationships are made, tested, and shaken as teenage egos, crushes, and hormones create mayhem and humor as eleven students struggle through one advanced Potions/Herbology course.
1. As You Like It

******Disclaimer: **I'm just playing in the Harry Potter sandbox. If you recognize it from elsewhere, I don't own it.

**Author's Note:** This story is based on Shakespeare's comedy "As You Like It"—set at Hogwarts during the Marauder's sixth-year. Any comments about my interpretation of the play, the relationships, or the characters are welcomed. If you would like to read a brief synopsis, or to look at each character in greater depth, I recommend SparkNotes.

The characters in this story bear a great resemblance to the ones in _October Twilight_. Originally, _October Twilight_ and _Of Amortentia & Polyjuice Potion_ were part of the same series. I have rethought that series and decided to make both standalone novels. However, similiarites remain, and I recommend reading _October Twiligh_t first.

And finally, this story was written WAY before _Deathly Hallows_ came out, even if it's only being posted now. There is no hint of Good!Snape or Snape's and Lily's friendship. The overall plot hasn't been affected any other way.

Thank you for reading (and even more for reviewing).

* * *

**Of Amortentia & Polyjuice Potion**

**Chapter One**

"**As You Like It"**

James Potter sat in the back of the classroom twirling his quill in one hand and messing up his untidy black hair with the other. Only a few words had been scribbled on the parchment lying on his desk, but he didn't have any desire to take better notes.

It was an unusually warm day for the beginning of March, and Professor Flitwick had propped open the window to let in the cool spring air while he lectured on the theory of controlling water. The result was that half the class was gazing past the tiny professor to focus on the beautiful day beyond the window and the other half were being lulled to sleep.

Next to James, Sirius Black was sprawled across his desk with one arm stretching across the tabletop, the other arm hanging limply at his side, and a puddle of drool forming at the corner of his mouth. Peter Pettigrew had his chin propped on his fist and was gazing longingly at the students gathered around the lake. More than once Pete's elbow slipped, startling him awake. Remus Lupin alone seemed unfazed by the nice weather. His quill scratched furiously across the parchment, taking down every detail of the lecture.

"Sycophant," James muttered.

"Slacker," Remus retorted, never taking his eyes off the tiny Charms professor.

James chuckled and turned back to the scene outside the window, counting the minutes until he could join the students lounging around the lake. The weather was perfect for flying too. He'd been itching to get back on a broomstick ever since the last Quidditch game against Ravenclaw. Gryffindor was sure to beat Slytherin as long as he continued to push the team as hard as he had been in training.

In a matter of minutes, his eyes had become glassy, his head was filled with thoughts of flying, and he was fighting to stay awake. He glanced at his watch again. Not three minutes had passed since he'd checked the time. He shifted positions, trying to find a more comfortable spot on his chair. Clearly Sirius had the right idea. The only way to make Charms go faster would be to sleep through it.

Normally, Charms was a more enjoyable subject. The Marauders—James, Sirius, Remus, and Peter—were free to make plans for their monthly rendezvous while they practiced with their wands. It was just their luck that Flitwick opted for a theory lecture on the first nice spring day of the year.

A girl in the front row, who had been hunched over her parchment, suddenly sat up very straight and twisted in her seat to stretch her muscles. The breeze wafting into the room caused the stray hairs that had escaped from her ponytail to flutter across her creamy skin. James watched the fiery red locks move over the graceful slope of her neck, captivated by her beauty.

She ceased stretching a moment later, and feeling his eyes on the back of her neck, spun around to face him. Lily Evans's green eyes were narrowed and blazing with unrestrained hatred. Merlin, James loved her! She had so much spirit and such witty comebacks. Sure, sometimes she crossed the line between playful banter and hostility. She was too proud to admit her mistake, of course, but James forgave her nonetheless.

"And remember," Professor Flitwick finished, "there is a mandatory meeting for all sixth-years tonight at 5 p.m. in the Potions classroom."

Evans turned away from James and gathered her belongings. He didn't have a chance to ask her to Hogsmeade—as consolation for the ego-scathing glare—because Flitwick bustled over to her before James could even stand up. Sirius, whose internal alarm clock had woken him up the moment class was over, practically pulled him out of the room.

"We've got an hour before the meeting. Let's go flying," his best friend suggested.

In his excitement, he wasn't paying attention to where he was walking and slammed into somebody waiting outside the door.

"Watch where you're going, Black!" Dorcas Meadowes snapped.

Sirius turned to her smoothly, his gray eyes raking in her tall, slender frame hidden behind Hufflepuff robes. She wasn't the most popular girl at Hogwarts for nothing. She was a Greek goddess with a Kentish accent—dark flowing hair, amber eyes, and olive skin. James and Remus disagreed with Sirius on this, but Pete was on his side. Brunettes beat redheads any day of the week.

"Sorry, Meadowes. How can I make it up to you? A quick trip to a broom cupboard, maybe?"

"I imagine your trips to broom cupboards probably are quick, Black."

Sirius's smile slipped off his face. He didn't miss Remus turning away to "cough." He'd have to have a chat with his Marauder-in-arms about choosing better friends.

"Hey, Anna," Pete mumbled, blushing and averting his eyes.

Sirius, James, Remus, and Dorcas glanced at Annabel Knight to gauge her reaction. She wasn't a beauty like Dorcas and Lily, but neither was she ugly. James and Sirius had decided that she was cute. She had blonde hair that was frizzy more than curly, a button nose, and rather small lips. She also wasn't the intellectual virtuoso like her two best friends, but she made decent enough marks to tutor Pete in Care of Magical Creatures.

"Ugh," she responded.

James tried not to roll his eyes. Yeah, those two had a bright future ahead of them. Pete had fancied her since first-year and still hadn't said more than two words to her. Imagine if all he could say to Evans was: Hey. He would have been out of the running years ago. As it was, he was making excellent headway. Just the other day, when he'd asked her out, she had only rolled her eyes. Now that was progress.

"Prefect meeting at eight o'clock tomorrow," Dorcas reminded Remus. "This is an important one, so try to make sure the fifth-years are on time for once."

James snorted in laughter. "Yeah, Moony, you wouldn't want to miss a scintillating discussion about changing passwords and the all-important rule about no chewing gum in the prefect's bathroom."

"Hey, Potter," Dorcas snapped. When James looked at her, she continued. "Shut the hell up before I hex you."

All other conversation in the hall ceased. No one talked to James Potter like that and got away with it. Dorcas's fingers twitched, ready to grab her wand, but that wasn't necessary. Lily appeared in the corridor a moment later with Professor Flitwick.

"Is there a problem?" the professor inquired.

"Absolutely not, professor," Dorcas replied. "Potter was accepting that I've taken five points from Gryffindor with grace and dignity, as one would expect of him."

She smirked darkly at James as Professor Flitwick praised his good attitude and scolded him for losing points.

"Let's get out of here before Flitwick does," Annabel recommended.

The three girls headed down the hallway towards the library, where they always went after their last class before dinner. Madam Pince smiled stiffly at the girls as they walked past her desk. They took their usual table in the corner of the library between the Ancient Rune dictionaries and the bound editions of the _Daily_ _Prophet_.

"What's on the agenda for today?" Lily asked. "Arithmancy or … Divination?"

She looked pleadingly at Dorcas. Equations and conversions she could figure out in time, but crystal balls and palmistry were like foreign languages to her.

"Can one of you proofread my Potions essay? Professor Slughorn has been hounding me about improving my grade," said Annabel.

"You should have asked last week!" Dorcas cried, aghast. "Now we can't properly help you."

Annabel shoved the parchment at Dorcas irritably. "Just look it over for me, okay? I'll quiz you on palmistry vocabulary, Lily. Then Dorcas can teach us how to do it."

The next half hour was frustrating for all three girls. Lily became upset when she couldn't rattle off the meaning of various words and lines on the palm, Annabel had to look up every answer and read it verbatim, and Dorcas couldn't concentrate with her two friends bickering.

"I give up!" Lily exclaimed, earning a reproachful glare from Madam Pince. "Let's just go to the meeting early."

As usually happened, the three girls arrived first. Professor Slughorn was piddling away at the student store cupboard, refilling jars and magically sealing them tight, while Professor Sprout rearranged chairs so that everyone could sit comfortably. The Herbology teacher beamed brightly at the girls.

"Always prompt, always helpful," she chirped. "Would you girls mind finishing up? There are some forms I'd like to sort out before more students show up." She cast a disapproving glare at the back of Slughorn's head.

"Of course, Professor Sprout."

Dorcas, Lily, and Annabel pulled out their wands and finished pushing the tables to the walls and lining up rows of chairs.

Twenty minutes later, the Potions class room was packed to its limit. The dungeon room was never meant to hold forty students. Every movement threatened to dislodge some precariously placed jar or topple a stack of books perched on a high shelf.

Slughorn surveyed the room with furrowed eyebrows. The students on the right three-quarters of the room were a jumbled grouping of Gryffindors, Ravenclaws, and Hufflepuffs. Many, like Dorcas, Lily, and Annabel, had strong inter-House friendships. Slytherin House, however, sat huddled together on the left side of the room.

"Well, now that we're all here, let's begin. Since this was Professor Sprout's idea, I'll let her explain," Slughorn said. He shuffled back to his desk and sat down in his comfortable armchair.

"Thank you, Horace. This year is a very special year for sixth-years at Hogwarts. Due to the excellent performance on your OWLs, and because a record number of students are taking both Herbology and Potions as NEWT classes, Headmaster Dumbledore has granted myself and Professor Slughorn permission to offer a Field Study course over Easter weekend."

A murmur of excitement passed through the students. Field trips were not common at Hogwarts, except the routine days in Hogsmeade. When Sprout raised her hand, silence fell over the students.

"I warn you now that this is not any ordinary field trip. It is a Field Study and will count towards one credit of Ministry-approved, post-Hogwarts training." Another ripple passed through the students, but only the academically minded few. "You will be learning a great deal about advanced potion-making and Herbology, but I tell you also, on this Field Study, you will be working much, much harder than in any Hogwarts classroom.

"I believe Professor Slughorn is handling the … ah, legal … side of this Study," Sprout concluded, retiring from her place at the front of the students.

Slughorn stood up and motioned to a tall stack of parchment. "Those of you wishing to take part in the Field Study must fill out this application." He waved around a thick scroll. "You should also attach a letter explaining why you feel you should be chosen, including your plans for a career. This," he picked up another scroll, "is to be owled to your parent or guardian, reviewed, and signed."

"We need permission to take a class?" someone whispered to their neighbor.

"Yes," Slughorn responded. "You see, the Field Study will take place inside the Forbidden Forest."

The loudest murmur yet passed through the students. Some were nervous, others intrigued, and still others excited.

"We must have your parents' approval on record, for insurance purposes." He muttered the last part. "The deadline for applications is March 15th, which gives you a fortnight. Don't procrastinate. There are a limited number of bunks in each tent. Well, then, if that's all said and done, I believe it's time for supper! Slug Club with me, please."

The faintest of frowns pulled at Professor Sprout's lips. Dorcas had mentioned to Lily that Sprout didn't approve of the Slug Club, even if she was friendly with Slughorn. She thought singling out students for popularity was unprofessional and mean-spirited.

All the Slug Club could talk about that night was the Field Study. Dorcas and Lily were genuinely interested in the academic aspect, but Potter and Black only wanted to explore the Forest.

"Well, we'll be in specific areas, of course," Slughorn stated, plucking a crystallized pineapple out of a dish. "We don't want students running around unchecked, now do we? The place we're going is quite safe. It's called Arden, on the northern most edge of the forest. Herbology professors have done field research there for centuries."

As the night wore on, Slughorn's tongue grew looser and looser. Soon, the entire Slug Club knew there were six spots open for boys but only five for girls—because Madam Pomfrey was coming along too; that, as a reward for helping out the school, Professor Dumbledore had granted permission for an extra Hogsmeade visit; that they were excused from Thursday and Tuesday classes; that they would be exempt from Herbology and Potions finals; and that Dumbledore himself would be judging the letters accompanying their applications.

"Now, let's not spread this around," Slughorn advised. "I wouldn't give this advantage to just anyone."

With a wink, he showed his favorite students out the door.

For the next two weeks, the sixth-years discussed little besides the Field Study. Dorcas and Annabel spent every free moment pouring over their letters: writing, rewriting, rephrasing, restarting, and scouring for mistakes. Lily didn't seem at all perturbed about her letter, which was a complete mystery to her friends.

What they didn't know was that Lily wasn't sure if she even wanted to write a letter. She was torn: Should she get some field experience in an area she might not even pursue after Hogwarts? Or study for exams that were rapidly approaching? Every time she watched Dorcas and Annabel combing through their letters, she almost asked their advice, but stopped herself at the last moment. Dorcas would overreact, and Annabel would become irritated. No, Lily would figure this out on her own.

The problem was that March 15th was a lot closer than Lily could have ever imagined. Fourteen days seemed to fly by and she had yet to make up her mind. Before she knew it, Professor Slughorn was reminding the sixth-year Potion classes that the deadline had arrived.

"Of course, Dumbledore has been reviewing your letters as they've come in. He has only a few more to go, and then the list of students can be compiled. Final decisions will be made by 6 p.m. today, and the list will be posted outside Professor Sprout's office."

Lily was shell-shocked. She never missed deadlines! She never procrastinated! She was never plagued with indecision! Now that it was too late, she was absolutely positive that she wanted to go on the Field Study.

"What's up, Lily?" Annabel asked, spreading out her homework on the study table.

Dorcas, who was color-coding her notes, seemed to notice her best friend's dejected expression for the first time. She laid down the quill dripping ink charmed to color coordinate and pushed away the sheaf of parchment. Lily took this as a sign that her friends were truly concerned. Dorcas would never miss a study session before a big test unless something very important came up.

Lily took a deep breath. Then, she told them how she had been torn about the trip, but that she wanted to go, and it was too late. As Lily predicted, Dorcas overreacted and Annabel became irritated.

"You should have told us sooner. We could have reasoned it out with you," Annabel grumbled.

"Lily! This is the single most important class we'll ever take at Hogwarts! A Field Study is a sure ticket into any training program we choose!"

The redhead pursed her lips. Sometimes their extreme moods grated on her last nerve. She loved them, and they would help her with the plan she had formulated, but Merlin, they could be more annoying than Petunia at times.

"Well then, why don't you shut-up so I can explain what we're going to do about it?"

Twenty minutes later, Annabel was staring wide-eyed at her friends. Never in Hogwarts history had two prefects and top students considered a plot so—so—well, Marauder-esque was the only word to describe it.

"You're kidding, right?" Annabel asked.

Lily and Dorcas had an incredible ability to persuade and deceive. She, on the other hand, did not have these uncanny gifts. She could barely believe her friends were considering psychological warfare against such a sweet girl as Sun Kim.

"It's the only way," Lily stated. Dorcas nodded readily. "Great. You'll need to use that wonderful _ability_ of yours—," Lily eyed Dorcas meaningfully, and Annabel gasped. This was more serious than she thought. "—to get the information we need from Sun. Anna, you'll need to stay alert and find out how Sun is reacting our plan."

Annabel nodded absently. "What if she doesn't give in?"

"We move on to Plan B."

"What's Plan B?"

"Not a clue," Lily admitted. "We'll worry about that if Plan A fails."

* * *

James and Sirius had been practicing their scoring since Potions class let out. They took turns playing Keeper and Chaser, critiquing each other and trying out new moves. It would have been a boring game if anyone but James Potter and Sirius Black were playing it. Remus and Peter were sitting in the stands, one doing his homework, the other watching his friends' flying skills in awe.

"Hey, Remus," Pete began. When the other boy replied with an absent, "Hmm," he continued. "Who do you think they'll pick for the Field Study?"

Remus marked his place and shut the book. He knew what Peter really wanted to ask, but he wouldn't make his friend say it. Pete was worried that he would be left behind.

"Us, Lily, Dorcas, Sun … the rest depends on who wrote the best letter."

"You're sure?"

"Of course. Slughorn will make sure Padfoot and Prongs go, because they're in the Slug Club, and Professor Sprout will be delighted that you want to be a Herbologist."

He pierced his friend with a knowing look. Sirius had told Pete that a surefire way to get a spot on the trip was to suck up to one of the professors. Since Pete had higher marks in Herbology, he wrote on his application that he wanted to go on the Field Study because it was his dream to become a Herbologist for St. Mungo's. That wasn't Pete's dream at all, but Sirius was right, Professor Sprout would insist he be given a spot.

"What about you?"

Remus smiled slightly. "I'm going to be a teacher, aren't I?"

Pete grinned, thinking that Remus had done the same thing he had. If the smaller boy had paid more attention to his studious friend and less to Sirius and James, he would have known Remus would never lie on an application and that he truly did want to become a teacher.

Sirius and James landed when the light began to fade and the boys headed into the castle for dinner. A gaggle of students were crowded around a sheet of parchment hanging on the wall to the left of Professor Sprout's office door. Nearly every sixth-year was present, except for one redhead, James observed. He wondered where Evans was. This Field Study had her name written all over it. It was just the sort of thing that looked good on a résumé.

Meadowes and Knight pushed their way out of the mass of students, both looking pleased. Sirius perked up when he saw the smiles on their faces. Five days in the wilderness, picking plants and brewing potions with plenty of free time to spend with Dorcas Meadowes sounded like a worthwhile trip to him.

Finally, after many students left with dejected expressions, the Marauders were able to elbow their way to the front of the crowd. The list was written in Professor Sprout's curly handwriting and arranged in two columns, boys' names and girls' names.

_Sirius Black_

_Remus Lupin_

_Garry Meade_

_Peter Pettigrew_

_James Potter_

_Severus Snape_

_Dorthea Bulstrode_

_Annabel Knight_

_Dorcas Meadowes_

_Tallulah Parkinson_

_Piper Robins_

Below the names was a note: _All students must attend the informative meeting on Friday, 9__th__ of April, at 6 o'clock in Professor Slughorn's office._

James slapped Pete on the back, but made no other sign that he had been worried Wormtail wouldn't be chosen to come on the Field Study.

"But five days in the same tent with Snivellus's greasy hair?" Sirius questioned, looking at the paper in disgust.

"Five days with …," James peered over his best friend's shoulder to read the other column, "… where's Evans's name?"

"Why are there six guys and only five girls?" Pete wondered aloud.

"Because," said a voice from behind the Marauders, "Madam Pomfrey is coming along too."

Piper Robins smiled suggestively at Sirius and completely ignored the other three boys. Sirius couldn't help but notice that her robes fitted a little tighter than most other girls wore them and that her Ravenclaw crest rested lower on her lapel, as if to bring attention to her generous bosom.

"See you later, Sirius."

She walked away, swaying her hips and flipping her dark hair over her shoulder. James rolled his eyes. He'd dated Piper in third-year. But so had Elijah Diggory, Jeremiah Abbott, Preston Pierston, Miles Davis, Johnathan Wright, Frank Longbottom, Heath Marsden, and Garrison Flint. He knew what Sirius saw in her, and he couldn't blame him. But James's eyes were for Evans only.

* * *

Lily, Dorcas, and Annabel were curled up on the couches in the Prefects' Lounge discussing ways for Lily to come on the Field Study. In actuality, the Prefects' Lounge was an unused classroom converted by decades of students with inter-House friendships. It was more a gathering place for fifth-years and up than a special prefects room.

"There are no more spots open," Lily repeated, for the hundredth time. "What am I supposed to do? Get Piper to give up her spot? I'm not letting any Slytherins in on this. I can't believe Sun didn't get a place! Even Flitwick agrees that she's better at Unanimated Charms than I am."

Their plan to get Sun to give up her spot had utterly backfired. As it turned out, she hadn't even applied. Like Lily, she had been torn between experience and studying. As Ravenclaw prefect, she was under incredible pressure to do well in her classes to set an example, yet she was always shown up in grades by Gryffindors. She decided to stay behind and, for once, make top marks.

"Are you kidding? Five days in the Forbidden Forest with six virile young men? You couldn't pay Piper to give it up." The girls giggled appreciatively at Annabel's blunt observation. "No, we'll have to be a bit sneakier."

"I don't see how, considering that there are seven bunks in the tent and all seven are taken, two of them by teachers."

"You can convince someone to give up their space, can't you? You are, after all, the infamous Lily Evans who has defied the Marauders for six years. You can do anything," Dorcas laughed.

"How many times can I possibly say that there are no—"

"—more spots open. Yes, I know. Really, Lily, you need to think outside the box. There are no beds open in the girls' tent and none of us will give up a place. So, get one of the boys to stay behind," Dorcas sighed, as if this had occurred to her ages ago.

"I think there is a strict no co-ed policy at Hogwarts," the redhead countered.

"You think like a Muggle, you know that, Lily?"

Both Lily and Annabel, being Muggle-borns, didn't think there was anything particularly wrong with this.

"We have magic on our side. We can do anything! Even convincingly disguise you as a boy, Lily."

The defeated expression on Lily's face was slowly replaced with curiosity, then hesitance. "You're not actually suggesting … That's crazy, Dorcas! … Do you know how many rules we would be breaking?"

Annabel, who was thinking something drastically different than her two friends, grew increasingly concerned as the conversation progressed. When Lily finally said the words, Annabel was so relieved that Dorcas was proposing a temporary measure that she enthusiastically supported the idea.

"Do we even know how to brew Polyjuice Potion?" Lily wondered.

"We have a pass to the Restricted Section for our next Potions essay. It wouldn't look suspicious at all if we happened to check out _Moste Potente Potions_."

"And the ingredients?"

"Slughorn's store cupboard."

"We don't have enough time to brew it."

"It takes twenty-one days. We have twenty-eight."

Lily was torn between abiding by the rules and formulating a scheme of such epic proportions. Who would ever dream of brewing Polyjuice Potion outside of Potions class? It was an almost certain expulsion sentence. And yet, Lily was not the straight-laced prefect so many thought her to be. She had gotten into a fair share of trouble, but like Dorcas, always managed to get out of it relatively unscathed.

Dorcas could see that Lily was almost ready to give in. It was exhilarating to be on the verge of breaking a dozen school rules. Her mind was racing with ways to keep it a secret, how to cover their tracks, and what stories to tell if they were caught.

"One problem," Lily stated. "Who do I turn into?"

* * *

Garry Meade was having a wonderful day, even by his unusually high standards. He'd made top marks in Transfiguration for once, booked the Quidditch field for practice before Potter could, snogged Piper Robins in a broom cupboard, and received a spot on the Field Study. Things really couldn't get any better, he thought, sliding into a seat at a study table.

He surveyed his reflection in the dark window, pleased with what he saw. Perfect black hair, intense blue eyes, a muscular build from playing Beater for five years, and brand new Ravenclaw robes with a prefect badge pinned to the lapel. Merlin, he was a handsome bloke. No wonder Sirius Black didn't like him—competition. They looked too much alike. Any pretty girl who swooned for tall, dark, and handsome would have two men to choose from. No doubt, they would pick Garry any day of the week. He was, after all, Prefect _and_ Quidditch Captain. Black was neither, the git.

Speaking of pretty girls, the two prettiest at Hogwarts had just walked into the library. It was a common occurrence to see Lily Evans and Dorcas Meadowes bent over tables holding spell books and dictionaries the size of paving slabs. It was the bent over part Garry appreciated more than the knowledge they were filling their heads with.

As equally nice as their backsides were, Garry thought Lily won the overall beauty contest. This was a good thing because Mr. and Mrs. Meade might use Unforgivables if their son pursued a Hufflepuff. Granted, she was a Hufflepuff with higher marks than him, but a Hufflepuff all the same. But Lily, on the other hand, Lily was a goddess born to Muggles. And the Meades really had no problem with Muggles.

As Garry figured they would, they made a beeline for him. The ladies at Hogwarts always loved to be seen with him. For the first time he noticed Lily and Dorcas's friend, Amanda or Ashley or something like that, with them. She wasn't his type, so he decided to ignore her.

"Lily, Dorcas, what can I do for you lovely ladies today?"

"Give us a bit of your DNA," Lily answered.

Garry hesitated. DNA? His Ravenclaw brain went into panic mode. He must have forgotten something they talked about in Defense … or would that be Potions? … Or maybe it was a plant?

"What the hell is DNA?" Dorcas hissed.

"Your hair, fingernails, anything like that," Lily explained.

The boy paused. Compared with the two girls in front of him, he might have seemed intellectually lacking, but he wasn't sorted into Ravenclaw and made Quidditch Captain for nothing. He could sort out a strategy or pattern in seconds. As much as he wanted to believe the girls desired pieces of him to put under their pillows, he knew two sophisticated and classy young women wouldn't ask for fingernails.

"Why are you brewing Polyjuice Potion?"

Dorcas grinned easily. This brainless buffoon was too easy to figure out. All Lily had to do with flirt a bit and he would agree. But Lily wasn't a witch to set the feminist movement back twenty years.

"In about a month, I need to become you," Lily stated, "so that I can go on the Field Study."

"And what do I get out of giving up my place?" the boy asked, glancing between Lily and Dorcas.

"You get to become me for five days."

Garry's brow furrowed and he opened his mouth to decline the offer, but Dorcas cut him off. "And, of course, as Lily you'll have to change clothes and shower."

Garry's eyebrows rose at the exact moment Lily's jaw dropped. Annabel, ignored until this point, clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle her laughter. Lily really should have foreseen this glitch, but thankfully, it was too late to back out. They had already nicked the boomslang skin and bicorn horn from Slughorn's store cupboard. To abort now, and risk foiling their own plan, was tantamount to getting caught.

Lily recovered a moment later, but she cast such a feral look at Dorcas that the smile on the brunette's face vanished in an instant. There would be yelling and hexing happening later, and Annabel was already devising a way to watch without being involved.

"Well, Garry?" Lily demanded.

"All right, you can have my place. How is this going to work?"

Lily crossed her arms and refused to speak anymore. Dorcas was the mastermind behind this plan; it was her job to make sure no one but the four of them knew.

"We're brewing the potion somewhere we won't be caught." She pulled out a narrow crystal phial. "Fill this completely with your hair, and we'll give you one with Lily's hair as well. We'll let you know when it's done."

Plan B was underway and simmering in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom …


	2. Exile to Arden

**Of Amortentia & Polyjuice Potion**

**Chapter Two**

"**Exile to Arden"**

Professor McGonagall glared angrily at the two students stumbling into the Great Hall. James Potter yawned so loudly and widely that the Transfiguration professor noted he had had his tonsils removed, and Sirius Black nearly fell over when his eyelids slipped shut.

All the other students going on the Field Study had managed to wake-up on time, even if they were still sleepy. Dorcas Meadowes and Annabel Knight had arrived so early that breakfast hadn't been on the table yet. Remarkably, even Garry Meade had shown up promptly at five a.m. Minerva McGonagall wasn't one to pick favorites or label bad apples, but even she could not help but be annoyed by Garry Meade. Skipping a conversation with him was worth dealing with Potter and Black ten times over.

What the Transfiguration professor didn't know, and would never have guessed, was that Dorcas, Annabel, and "Garry Meade" had been up since three-thirty that morning. Dorcas and Annabel had carefully cast Imperturbable Charms on their bed curtains and tucked their alarm clocks under their pillows, so as to not disturb their dorm mates, before falling asleep.

Seconds after the alarm clocks had rung, the girls had leapt out of bed stealthy as pouncing cats. In mere minutes they were dressed in Muggle clothes appropriate for hiking and crept out of their dormitory with bulging packs. They arrived at the second floor girls' bathroom only moments before Lily came sprinting down the corridor.

Two cauldrons of Polyjuice Potion were simmering in the far stalls. It was all part of Lily's brilliant plan—only Myrtle could see what they were doing, and she was too busy moping about to tell anyone. Carefully, and concentrating as much as one could with Myrtle sobbing in the next stall, the three girls bottled, sealed, and charmed the jars to be unbreakable. They had only just slid each vial into its secure place in a potions kit when a timid voice rang through the tiled room.

"Umm … hello?"

Dorcas pulled Garry Meade into the bathroom. He looked far less handsome at four-fifteen in the morning and less cocky standing in a girls' lavatory. Annabel handed him a plain black box.

"The spell to open the box is _Abre Latenta_, and the password is 'detention,'" Lily explained.

"Ironic," Garry grinned.

She made a noncommittal sound in the back of her throat. "A vial of my hair is in there as well. Make sure to drink enough every hour or—"

"—I know how Polyjuice Potion works."

"Right," Dorcas said, ending any bickering before it began in earnest. "Did you bring the clothes?"

Garry held out a bag containing several changes of Muggle clothes. Lily selected a pair of trousers and a shirt before stuffing the rest of the polyester shirts and bellbottom jeans into her pack. Annabel passed a pair of Lily's Gryffindor robes to Garry while Dorcas measured out the potion. Lily had brewed one cauldron, and Dorcas had been responsible for another. She was nowhere near as talented as Lily, but when she concentrated, her potions were flawless. Just in case, they had decided that Lily would drink her own potion and Garry would have Dorcas's.

When Lily and Garry emerged from the cubicles, Dorcas and Annabel breathed a sigh of relief. Neither of them seemed to have had any unnatural side affects. As long as they drank the right amount of potion every hour for five days, no one would ever know the difference.

"The password for Gryffindor Tower—," Lily began, but she cut herself off. Her voice was deep and her accent completely different. She sounded just like Garry.

"Well?" Garry asked. He, in turn, sounded exactly like Lily.

They stared at each other blankly for several moments before Dorcas interrupted.

"Come on! It won't be so strange when you're not staring at yourselves. We need to get into the Great Hall, and you," she turned to Lily—no, Garry—and finished, "need to be back in bed before the other Gryffindor girls wake up."

Dorcas, Lily, and Annabel arrived at the Great Hall at exactly four forty-five a.m., fifteen minutes before they were required to be there. Because Garry was never early, Lily grudgingly agreed to hide under the stairs for another quarter of an hour while Dorcas and Annabel strode into the Great Hall for breakfast.

By five a.m. everyone but Black and Potter had gathered at the head of the Hufflepuff table, where Professors Slughorn and Sprout were eating with their students, and Madam Pomfrey was bustling about asking each student about allergies and asthma. When Black and Potter arrived, they seated themselves at the Gryffindor table, completely oblivious to the fact that they were late, that their Head of House was fuming, or that their fellow students were at a different table.

"Good morning," Professor Dumbledore said, entering from the door leading to the dais and the High Table. His blue eyes flicked to Potter and Black, who had fallen asleep again. McGonagall's cheeks turned red, but the Headmaster did not seem to mind. "I want to wish you all the very best this weekend. I trust you will learn much and enjoy yourself as well. On this Field Study, you will be working for the benefit of Hogwarts. It is only fitting that you are rewarded. Next weekend, all of you will receive a special Hogsmeade visit."

After a few more words, Dumbledore sat down for breakfast. Slughorn and Sprout ushered the students out the front doors and led the way to the Forbidden Forest. Professor Kettleburn threw a dead ferret to a tawny hippogriff before waving at the departing students.

"Here we will we split into three groups," Sprout announced. "Group A will collect tree lice, lacewing flies, and bubotuber roots. Group B will search along their path for dittany, clover, and asphodel. Group C will simply catalog the number and types of dichotomous flowering plants, deciduous trees, and magical wildlife."

"Pair up now," Slughorn shouted, over the din of arguing students. "Pick a partner who is pursuing a different training program than yourself. You'll get more out of the weekend if you do. No, Potter, Black, I know you both want to be Aurors—you too Meadowes, Knight, split up now."

Piper Robins practically jumped on Sirius, which she would have done even without an excuse. Dorcas grabbed Remus's arm and jerked him to her side, for fear that she would be stuck with a Slytherin if she didn't get to him before Pettigrew or Potter did. That gave Pete the perfect opportunity to shuffle up beside Annabel.

"What is it you're wanting to do after Hogwarts, Meade?" Potter questioned.

"Potions researcher," Lily responded, not realizing the Garry actually wanted to be an Auror, and she could have avoided partnering up with her nemesis.

"Right then, it's you and me, unless you want a Slytherin."

Lily tried to stifle her sigh and not roll her eyes. Even when she wasn't herself, she somehow still managed to get saddled with Potter. She was going to kill Dorcas and Annabel.

"One group of three then," Slughorn said, seeing the three Slytherins huddled together.

Lily turned to glare at her two best friends. She would have given anything to be with Dorcas and Remus, or even Annabel and Peter, for that matter. Sure, she would have to do most of the work in the latter group, but at least she wouldn't be with Potter.

"Right then," Sprout called, "Group A—that'll be Snape, Bulstrode, and Parkinson, you'll go with Professor Slughorn. Group B—How about, Potter, Meade, Knight, and Pettigrew, you'll come with me. That will leave, Meadowes, Lupin, Black, and Robins for Group C with Madam Pomfrey."

Dorcas groaned audibly. Cataloging she loved, doing it with Black and Robins, she did not. Piper was a lecherous harlot and Black was a lackey sidekick. At least she had Remus to help her.

The professors split up, Slughorn heading northwest, Sprout going straight into the forest, and Pomfrey skirting the edge. As they departed, each professor could be heard echoing the same message: don't horse around and there would be nothing to fear in the Forbidden Forest as long as they were with a teacher.

Most of the supplies for the weekend were already at the campsite, but the students were required to carry their clothes, Herbology and Potions textbooks, parchment, quills, ink, cauldrons, and potion kits with them, not to mention anything else they wanted to bring along.

Cataloging turned out to be much harder than Dorcas had anticipated, especially with the heavy pack on her back. Black and Piper were, of course, totally worthless. While Madam Pomfrey explained to Dorcas and Remus what each plant of used for, how to determine if it was dichotomous, and what that meant for Healing Potions, Black and Piper were flirting, snogging, or doing Merlin-knows-what behind trees.

Dorcas wasn't amazing at Herbology anyway. She had mangled and destroyed so many plants, Professor Sprout nearly wept when she found out Dorcas was taking NEWT Herbology. Remus was being less than his normally helpful self. Black, between snogging sessions, kept reminding him to draw the outline of the forest for some kind of map that was, apparently, very important and very secret.

Frustrated beyond her tolerance point, Dorcas let out a feral shriek and chucked her ink pot at Black. It hit him square in the back of the head. Piper screeched like a little girl, and when they pulled apart, Dorcas could see that Black had bitten her tongue. Good, she thought. Hitting Black and hurting Piper had made her feel much better.

She turned around again, ready to examine the next plant, but was instead confronted with Madam Pomfrey's fuming face.

"I thought better of you, Dorcas Meadowes! Intentionally hurting a fellow student! I never imagined you could do such a thing! Twenty points from Hufflepuff, and you're lucky it's not a detention."

"You should give her detention for a month," Black grumbled.

Dorcas spun around again. "Twenty-five points from Gryffindor for talking back to a teacher," she hissed, low enough that Pomfrey couldn't hear.

"Give us some points back, Remus," Black instructed.

"Don't tell him what to do!" Dorcas stepped up to Black, who she was nearly eye-level with. It seemed to disconcert him that she didn't need to look up to him. "Remus is a hundred times more mature than you, you egotistical prat. Just shut your mouth, and we won't have a problem. My partner and I are trying to work, like we're supposed to do on this Field Study. I'll remind you that you also have a job to do, in case Piper's sucked out your brains, in addition to your—"

"Okay, I think that's enough," Remus cut in, firmly grasping Dorcas's upper arms and steering her away from Sirius.

They bickered in hushed tones before Dorcas stomped away. Remus sighed deeply. This was going to be a long five days.

* * *

Lily hunched over a clump of dittany with her Herbology book flopped over one thigh and a pair of dragonhide gloves resting on the other. She flipped through the pages, trying to determine if the dittany was old enough to collect. Potter was several feet away, doing something to a tree with his wand. He was supposed to be collecting asphodel, but she wouldn't be surprised if he was doing something idiotic, like hexing the tree to see what might happen.

_Mature dittany should have pale green sprouts with barely opened pink buds. If more than two millimeters of the herb can be seen, it is too old for effective healing potions._

Lily grumbled at the book, not that the dying dittany was its fault, and moved onto the next batch of the pink healing herb.

Twenty feet away, Annabel was having a much harder time of it. While Lily might have considered her partner hopeless, Annabel knew hers was. There was no doubt about it, Peter Pettigrew was a moron. Twice, he had presented her with handfuls of grass.

"Clover, Peter! Clover!" she had exclaimed.

The blond boy had flushed crimson and muttered something about cutting the wrong plant. While he scooted away with his head hung, Annabel bemoaned her sorry state under her breath.

"Grass isn't even a viable potion ingredient! Why do I always get stuck with the worthless partner? Lily and Dorcas always pair up in classes, and I get stuck with some outcast, brainless, untalented wizard. It's not fair. Lily and Dorcas were made prefects. Lily and Dorcas have the whole school drooling over them. And what do I get? Peter Pettigrew. Wonderful, isn't it, Anna? Oh, yes, I just_ love_ my life."

"Talking to yourself is fine. Answering? That's a whole different story."

Annabel spun around. For a split second, Peter looked as confident and cocky as Potter and Black. Once Annabel's blue eyes met his, however, his posture melted immediately. She could appreciate that that cheeky comment could have been funny had anyone else said it, but Peter sounded like he was quoting from a bad Muggle television program.

"Please tell me you got some clover," she sighed.

Peter held out his right hand. A lump of green leaves rested in the outstretched palm. He had cut some clover, yes, but had utterly ruined it by mashing it into a ball. Annabel rubbed the bridge of her nose.

"What is wrong with you! It's just clover!"

She pushed past the boy, her frustration taking hold of her better manners. She glanced over at Potter and Garry—No, Lily. They already had filled half a kit with dittany and asphodel. It was twice as easy to find and cut clover, but she and Peter hadn't managed to collect so much as one sprig.

"You know," Peter began, puffing his chest out. He looked terrified to speak up for himself, but his voice didn't waver as he admonished a stunned Annabel. "Not all of us can be as clever as you, all right?"

Annabel gaped for a full minute. Then her cheeks flushed with embarrassment, both for having been so rude and because she never received compliments like that, not with Lily and Dorcas as her best friends.

Across the clearing, Lily stood up with a jar full of dittany. Professor Sprout grinned approvingly at Lily. Just as she was about to store the jar in the box Sprout had given them, she noticed that Potter was still trying to jinx a tree. Slivers of bark were flying everywhere as his wand moved slowly over the surface.

Garry being taller than Potter, she could see clearly over his shoulder. There was a perfect carving of a Snitch in the bark. Despite the fact that Lily didn't approve of him doodling instead of working, the image was quite remarkable. He was a good—

Lily's jaw dropped. On the Snitch was a short message: JP + LE.

Her eyes narrowed, and for a moment, she refused to believe what she was seeing. Potter was actually that pathetic even when he didn't know she was around? Wow. That was … a little flattering.

And completely infuriating! She had made it abundantly clear that she wasn't interested in him. Why couldn't he take the hint? Why couldn't he leave her alone? Even when she was disguised as someone else, he had to bother her. His relentless pursuits were just so annoying!

Lily realized a moment too late that she was staring. Potter glared at her in much the same way that he stared down Garry before Quidditch games.

"What's your problem?" he demanded.

"What's yours?" she retorted. "You know Lily isn't interested."

Potter was about to respond, but seemed to change his mind about what he wanted to say. "Since when do you call her Lily?"

"Since always. It is her name, you know. Some people prefer to be called by their names."

Lily didn't feel as calm as she sounded. Had she just made a serious blunder? Did Garry usually call her Evans? He always used her first name when they spoke face-to-face, but maybe he didn't when she wasn't around.

Potter turned around and blasted the Snitch off the tree. Inexplicably, Lily felt a jolt somewhere around her stomach as the bark exploded.

"Time to move out," Professor Sprout announced. "We've still a ways to go before we arrive in Arden."

* * *

Severus Snape could not believe his infernal bad luck. He had been forced into collecting lacewing flies, which was not in itself a particularly bad job. All he had to do was lie on his back and jab his wand at the insects that buzzed in front of his face. What he resented was Tallulah Parkinson whining about "nasty bugs." She was acting like a petrified Gryffindor for Merlin's sake.

The shrieking girl had been complaining about briars, dirt, and insects since they left Hogwarts that morning. It was the forest! What did she expect? How she had gotten a spot on the Field Study was beyond him. It was probably Dumbledore trying to appear fair. Like everyone didn't know that he favored Gryffindor!

Severus poked his wand harshly at a fly. It ceased buzzing immediately and fell to the ground dead. Of course, Slughorn didn't know Severus was killing the flies rather than dropping a cotton ball of ether into their jar. It was so much more rewarding to actually kill the annoying things. It didn't take much, nothing more than a slightly modified, but technically legal (because no one else but Severus knew about it) Stunner.

He imagined that the flies were those bothersome Marauders. One fly dead: Potter fell off his broom from an amazing height. Two flies dead: Black was hit in the head with a Bludger. Three flies dead: Pettigrew was in the clutches of a suddenly vicious Giant Squid. Four flies dead: Lupin was asphyxiating on a chunk of hexed steak and kidney pie.

A dark smirk crept onto Severus's lips. He couldn't get away with these things at Hogwarts. But, maybe, just maybe he would be able to manage something here in the Forbidden Forest. It was a small possibility, but he would try. That is, if Tallulah's high pitched squealing didn't trigger a massive brain aneurysm.

"Ew! Severus!" she shrieked, hopping around foolishly. "It's a bug!"

Slughorn frowned disapprovingly at the girl. She had interrupted his careful study of a fire ant colony. He glanced at Severus and indicated that his star Potions student should take care of the silly girl.

"We are in the wilderness. There will be bugs," Severus stated dryly.

Merlin, how he hated that girl! He wished she had been sorted into some other House just so he could ignore her. As it was, he was expected to appear friendly with her. He much preferred her brothers' company, even if they were a few years younger. That was the problem with the Parkinson family, Severus thought, they produced rather squeamish girls.

Now Dorthea, on the other hand, was handling her task rather better than Severus had thought she would. No one would say that any Bulstrode woman was feminine, but Dorthea was probably more so than her sisters or aunts. She liked perfume and unicorns and all that rubbish that girls wasted their time with, but she also loathed Mudbloods, Dumbledore, and Muggles, which made her all right in his book.

"Just hit her with the Cruciatus," Dorthea mumbled, crouching down next to Severus. She tore a clump of bubotuber roots from the earth. "But she might whine more if you do that."

An appreciative grin lifted one corner of Severus's mouth. It was the most outwardly display of friendliness he would show the girl. She genuinely amused him, which was more than he could say for the rest of Slytherin House. They were a bunch of cowardly pretenders, in Severus's opinion. Mostly, they talked a lot and did very little.

"A Killing Curse would save us the trouble," he replied, completely straight-faced.

Dorthea knew him well enough to read the crinkle around his black eyes and the angled frown on his lips. He was joking. Maybe.

"What about me, Snape? Do you want to use an Unforgivable on me?"

"Are you planning to ruin my concentration while I'm brewing potions for the simple fact that there are insects in the forest?" he questioned.

Dorthea looked appalled. "I would never interrupt your work!"

"Especially not when you're sharing my grade?"

"That too," she admitted. "But even if I weren't …"

"Then you have nothing to fear from me, Dorthea."

It was an unusual display of intimacy for Severus to use someone's first name. Dorthea appreciated that only Lucius Malfoy received that honor from him. A smile that had nothing to do with hexing Tallulah spread across her lips.

* * *

The portion of the Forbidden Forest called Arden was located on the northwestern most edge. The area was surprisingly bright and free from Dark creatures because of centuries-old enchantments placed by Herbologists. A permanent campsite was based in a clearing twenty-five by a hundred feet. Hardly a week passed without some witch or wizard researching in Arden.

The three groups arrived at the campsite intermittently. Slughorn's group had taken the most direct route to Arden, and therefore, arrived first. The sun had just turned a brilliant shade of orange and cast elongated shadows over the clearing. By the time Sprout's group showed up, the tents had been pitched and a fire started in the earthen pit. Night had already fallen when Pomfrey led her students into the campsite.

"Put your things away," Pomfrey said, hustling the girls into their tent, "then come back around the fire. The professors want to have a word with you about tomorrow's assignment."

Annabel glanced over her shoulder to look at Lily. Garry's face was wearing a mixed expression of discomfort and disgust. She turned around before her friend could catch her eye. She had, after all, played a role in talking Lily into taking Polyjuice Potion. All day she had watched her friend surreptitiously drink out of the red "water" bottle in her pack and grimace slightly each time.

Annabel's pensive mood regarding Lily vanished the moment she walked into the tent. It was unlike anything she had ever seen. What appeared to be a moderately sized pup tent turned out to be a luxurious dormitory that resembled Hufflepuff Cellar. Seven twin-sized beds were situated around the main room. In the center of the beds was a table with five mismatched chairs. At the far end of the room were two doors, one leading to what Annabel thought was a classroom. There was no mistaking the other room. It was clearly a bathroom with three shower stalls, two toilets, and a full sized vanity.

Predictably, Sprout and Pomfrey claimed the beds on either side of the tent flap. The Slytherin girls made a beeline for the two beds closest together (and farthest away from the others). Dorcas, Annabel, and Piper took the remaining bunks, the two brunettes glaring at each other while making their beds.

In the boys' tent, Lily was in a state of panic and trying not to show it. She hadn't made enough Polyjuice Potion to take at night, because she had never intended to wake up every hour for a potion. She had imaged the wizard tent to be more … well, magical. Instead, it looked more like a rustic cabin.

There were three bunk beds and one full-sized single that Slughorn had claimed. Black and Potter had immediately grabbed top bunks for themselves. Snape had sat down moodily on the bottom of the last bunk. Pettigrew and Remus had taken the beds under Potter and Black. That meant Lily was left with the bed above Snape.

She would have to climb out of bed every morning, with flaming red hair and certain noticeable anatomical parts Garry didn't have, and walk all the way across the tent to the bathroom to take the Polyjuice Potion. She supposed she could drink it while in bed, but the transformation was not pleasant, and Snape had a nose for potions.

When Lily left the tent, she glared at Dorcas and Annabel. They both seemed to sense that they, once again, were going hear Lily rant about this scheme.

Slughorn, Sprout, and Pomfrey were waiting for the students to gather around the fire. A large pile of scrolls, each sealed with yellow wax and the Hogwarts crest, perched precariously on a stump.

"Tomorrow," began Slughorn, "begins the real Field Study. We gave you an easy warm up today, but I guarantee tomorrow will be harder."

The most studious of the group, including James and Sirius, showed no signs of distress. Peter, Annabel, and Tallulah, however, shared similar pained expressions.

"Each morning, you will receive one of these scrolls." Slughorn indicated the pile beside him. "Yellow means they are Herbology questions, green for Potions, and the multi-colored Hogwarts crest means they are homework from the classes you are missing today, Monday, and Tuesday."

Now all of the students looked put out. To them, "excused from classes" meant they would be completely excused—no attendance, no homework, no make-ups. The professors obviously thought otherwise.

"Here," Sprout interjected, "is a schedule of events."

When she passed out copies to all the students, all traces of excitement or joy that had not evaporated with the mention of homework utterly vanished. It became immediately clear that there would be no free time for anyone.

_6:00-6:30 Breakfast_

_6:30-11:30 Assignment #1_

_11:30-12:30 Lunch_

_12:30-5:30 Assignment #2_

_5:30-6:30 Potions Lecture_

_6:30-7:30 Dinner_

_7:30-8:30 Herbology Lecture_

_8:30-10:00 Free Time_

_ Please note: each group is responsible for one meal and one clean up per day. The schedule is on a rotation staring tomorrow morning. Groups should arrive early to prepare meals._

"Couldn't we have just brought a house-elf?" Tallulah whined.

Dorcas silently agreed, but Annabel and Lily seemed irritated that she would ask such a stupid question. Apparently, Muggles camped this way all the time. She shuddered. How awful!

"And where would she have slept?" Sprout inquired. "Would you have given up your bunk, Miss Parkinson?"

Tallulah made a face. "Not for an elf! She could have slept on the floor … or by the fire … or in a tree for all I care."

Tallulah might have thought this funny, but Sprout did not. Dorcas, who was on close terms with the house-elf that cleaned Hufflepuff Cellar, did not appreciate this sentiment either. Strangely, Potter and Black seemed affronted as well. Odd, she thought, rich pureblood families usually kept at least one house-elf and treated it pretty badly.

"That is unacceptable," the professor replied shortly. "Hogwarts elves are treated as faithful and hard-working employees, not servants, Miss Parkinson. Now to bed. You've all got a big day tomorrow."


	3. Love Letters

**Of Amortentia & Polyjuice Potion**

**Chapter Three**

"**Love Letters"**

Lily yawned loudly as she stretched her arms over her head and twisted her sore back muscles. Not for the first time that morning she longed for the warm comfort of her duvet back in Gryffindor Tower. The sun was just barely up, but already the students on the Field Study had breakfasted and begun their assignments.

Collecting root of narcissus would have been easy enough, if the chilly spring night hadn't left a dusting of frost on the underbrush. Instead of easily picking the flowers and severing the roots, Lily was forced to kneel on the cold, hard ground and dig around the base of the plant. Twice, she had crushed a young flower with the spade.

She couldn't help but wonder if all her hard work would be for naught. Her partner, Potter, was supposed to be collecting Burbling Mushrooms. She couldn't imagine him hard at work this early in the morning. No, he was probably taking a nap. Annabel was surely laboring to capture miniature Dutch salamanders, but Lily wasn't positive that Peter would be able to find basebark sap.

The list they had been given the previous night indicated that the students would be brewing a Distillation Draught, a handy potion that acted as an antidote to almost all truth potions. It was ridiculously complicated, which Lily had expected on the Field Study, but it made her nervous nonetheless.

She glanced sidelong at the black box she, like her classmates, had been handed before entering the forest around the campsite. It was barely one-fourth full. She sighed deeply and wiped the sweat off her brow. Digging in frozen earth was a physical task, and she was sweating despite the chill in the air.

The longer she labored, the less she could concentrate on the work at hand. Her mind drifted away from the plants and focused on her hands. It was a peculiar feeling, appearing to be Garry Meade. His hands were so large and there were calluses on the palms from gripping the Beater bat. Sometimes she forgot to lift his long legs high enough and tripped over his toe, much to her embarrassment.

There were less pleasant aspects as well, which she tried her hardest to ignore. She had almost literally jumped in and out of the shower that morning. She could describe, in detail, the ceiling over the bathroom in the boys' tent. She forced herself to believe that Garry was doing the same thing in her body. She made a mental note to hex Dorcas for talking her into this idiotic scheme.

Lily had had a terrible time sleeping. She kept having nightmares about Potter finding her asleep in the bunk and asking her to Hogsmeade or else he'd tell Slughorn. Each time she drifted off, she woke with a jolt and huddled down further into her blanket until she was curled up in the center of the mattress, her knees at her chest.

At least she had been able to sneak into the bathroom extra early to take some Polyjuice Potion. The transformation from her own body to Garry's was unpleasant, but it was far too late to quit the potion now. If she was caught … Lily shuddered at the thought. Detention … expulsion …. Who knew what the faculty would think of a prefect illegally brewing Polyjuice Potion and hoodwinking her teachers?

She was glad for the experience, however. Already she could tell Sprout and Slughorn were preparing them for much harder post-Hogwarts training. Very few wizards actually gathered their own potions ingredients. The apothecary was easier, but the quality of freshly gathered components was much better.

At eleven o'clock, Lily stood up and stretched her legs. She swallowed two mouthfuls of the potion and washed it down with some water. She was covered in dirt, but the black box was full of narcissus roots. She had completed her assignment half an hour early. Usually, Lily would have continued working until the time was up, but normal assignments were not as taxing. She decided to take her time walking back to the campsite.

The professors had divided the forest into equal sections and sent each student off by themselves. This was either because there were so many things to collect they had no choice, or they wanted to make sure no one was goofing around instead of working. Lily caught a glimpse of Annabel, still toiling with the salamanders. From the sulfuric smell, she had popped at least one of the creatures.

It had been ages since Lily had gone on a relaxing holiday with her family. When she was young, she and Petunia used to love camping and riding bicycles and playing in the tree house together. Petunia had grown out of that long before Lily received her Hogwarts letter. But Lily still loved the sound of wind rustling leaves and the smell of wildflowers and the tranquility of the forest.

Arden was perhaps the most peaceful wood Lily had ever visited, which was very odd considering that it was part of the Forbidden Forest. Lily didn't know it, but just beyond the borders of Arden, where the magical protections ended, Dark creatures lurked, waiting for a camper to stray into their domain. The twisted trees and eerie sounds never left a wizard who had been into those parts.

Lily stopped suddenly and glanced around. Potter should have been in the section of the forest between Annabel and the campsite, but he was nowhere to be seen. She wondered if she'd lost her way, but the Point Me spell assured her that she had not. She growled deeply and made a promise to flog him within an inch of his life if he hadn't completed his assignment properly.

Her easy walk back to camp turned into an angry march when she resumed her path. She was so busy cursing Potter that she missed the first couple tree carvings. Gradually, she began to slow down and glance around at the cedars. On nearly every trunk there were drawings or etchings. Many resembled the Snitch she had seen Potter draw yesterday. Others were hearts with L.E. in the center. Still others were clumps of words.

She approached one of the trees with writing on it and read the inscription: _Rose, daisy, begonias … none are so beautiful as a Lily._ She blinked several times at the tree, as if it had just quoted this terrible verse to her. Her shock ebbed slowly.

What the hell was Potter's problem! Drawings of Snitches and initials, okay, that was normal. Carving bad poetry into trees was not. Lily stomped around for several minutes, disturbing the underbrush and frightening a warren of rabbits. She would have loved nothing better than to burst into the campsite and start yelling at him, but she couldn't do that. How would it look if Garry Meade scolded James Potter for having a crush on Lily Evans?

She added this to the list of reasons to jinx Dorcas. Speaking of, her best friend was crashing through the forest, screaming shrilly over her shoulder. Lily's foul disposition lightened slightly, seeing the curses and jinxes flying from Dorcas's wand.

"I hate you! You have all the brain power of a flobberworm, you worthless excuse for a boy!"

Dorcas stopped short upon seeing Garry—Lily—watching with an amused expression. She glowered at her friend before waving her wand at her clothes. The slimy green frog spawn vanished off her jeans and polyester. The black box Sprout had handed to each student was lying open on the ground, the contents oozing onto the underbrush.

"What'd he do?" Lily asked, cleaning up the mess.

Dorcas huffed indignantly. "He thought it would be cute to push me into that nasty bog while I was collecting toad eggs."

"She provoked me," Black said, appearing at the scene. He narrowed his eyes at her. "Don't tell me the reason you won't admit you like me is because of _him_." He jerked his thumb at Garry.

With knowing she was doing it, Lily rolled her eyes. Black took this as a direct assault and stepped closer to Dorcas.

"Stay away from me, Black!" Dorcas demanded, stomping off. She realized too late that she didn't talk to Garry Meade except when he approached her.

"It's not a bog, it's a lake," Sirius shouted after her.

Meadowes was so touchy sometimes, he didn't understand her. Like when she'd hexed him into the hospital wing two years ago. He hadn't done anything wrong, just made a comment to his friends. Next thing he knew, he was on the ground being pummeled black and blue.

His thoughts were distracted by carvings on the trees. Ignoring Meade, he turned around several times, taking in the Snitches, initials, and poems.

"James was here," he mentioned.

"Good observation," Meade spat.

Sirius watched with raised eyebrows as Meade scooped up his potions box and stomped off after Meadowes. James might have competition, he thought. Well, not really _competition_. Who in their right mind would want to date Garry Meade? Certainly not Lily Evans. True, her sanity was called into question by the fact that she wouldn't date James, but really, she was a bright girl. She'd come around eventually.

For the rest of the hike back to camp, Lily's mind was focused on one thing and one thing only: How to make Potter leave her alone. She couldn't yell at him, not in Garry's body anyway. She would have to reason with him. She grimaced at the thought of maintaining a polite conversation with Potter.

There was no way around it. During first and second-year, before they were on the Quidditch teams, Potter and Garry had been pretty good friends. Then, during the Gryffindor-Ravenclaw match in November, they had gotten into a disagreement over a penalty shot or something ridiculous like that. They had both pulled out their wands, and when Disarmed by Madam Hooch, had resorted to Muggle dueling until Hagrid tore them apart. They hadn't spoken since, except when necessity demanded a brief exchange of words.

Suddenly, Lily realized how much it must have cost Potter to suggest they partner up on the Field Study. The only person he hated more than Garry was Snape. True, Potter had been avoiding being put in a group with Slytherins, Snape included, but he could have bullied Pettigrew into being his partner and pushed Annabel onto Garry.

That was really … mature. Lily physically shook her head. Potter, mature? Hardly. But the indulgent smile just wouldn't come. Try as she might, she couldn't force the corners of her lips to curl at the description of Potter being mature. This put her in an even fouler mood. Brooding, she stomped into camp and threw herself onto a log seat next to Dorcas.

Her best friend nearly choked on her beef stew. "Uh, hey Meade. What's going on?"

"You're going to die a painful death when we get back to Hogwarts," Lily mumbled. She moved around the fire, picking a spot two logs away from Tallulah.

James sauntered into camp fifteen minutes later with a pleasant grin on his face. He felt good about the day. He'd taken a nap before starting his assignment, managed to collect all the necessary Burbling Mushrooms needed, and wrote some really good poetry about Lily. He would have to work on the iambic pentameter, of course, but it was a work-in-progress.

He took the seat next to Sirius, who didn't notice because of Piper's roving hands. Meadowes was watching the scene, looking like she was about ready to chuck her bowl at Piper. James shook his head. _Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned_. Sirius needed to stop making her jealous and pay more attention to her. He'd have to mention that to his best friend.

* * *

After lunch, the students were sent off once again, this time by Professor Slughorn. He had divided up the ingredients gathered that morning and set the students to work on the Distillation Draught in pairs.

Annabel sorted all the ingredients and arranged them in the order they were supposed to be mixed into the potion. Miraculously, she had managed to capture enough salamanders and remove their tails. They were feisty little things, even being somewhat tamed by captivity around Lake Arden. (Not that she could blame them. The poor things had their tails ripped off constantly). Even Peter had gathered enough basebark sap to go around.

"Have you made this potion before?" Peter asked, sitting across from Annabel.

Normally, she would have made some scathing comment about sixth-years not being given access to truth potions or their antidotes, but she felt no desire to scold Pete. Not after the generous compliment he'd given her the day before. He thought she was smart, she remembered, and grinned indulgently.

"No, but I've read about it." Actually, she'd heard Lily and Dorcas discussing it, but Pete didn't need to know that. "It's complicated, but nothing we can't handle."

She had almost said 'I' instead of 'we,' but caught herself in time. There was no need to alienate the one person who admired her instead of her friends.

"If you'll get the sap boiling, I'll work on slicing the Burbling Mushrooms."

Peter immediately went to work. Annabel glanced at his work occasionally, impressed that he'd managed to make the gooey, chunky sap turn liquid with so little difficulty. Of course, it didn't hurt that he had followed her instructions to the letter, like the whole school did when Lily and Dorcas gave a command.

She grinned at Peter, and he smiled back. Both of their cheeks turned pale pink.

* * *

Not far away, Severus was appalled by the plume of blue smoke and acrid smell of rotten eggs billowing from Knight and Pettigrew's potion. His attention was quickly diverted by Tallulah's pathetic potion-making abilities. The stupid girl had diced, rather than sliced, the Burbling Mushrooms. Dorthea cast him an apologetic glance and tore the knife away from Tallulah, who moaned pitifully.

"Nobody lets me do anything! Nobody takes me seriously."

"Perhaps your nails-on-a-chalkboard voice has something to do with that," Severus muttered. Unfortunately, Tallulah heard and began whining even louder.

"Can I do anything?" Dorthea asked.

Severus looked up at her through the curtain of his black hair. He considered her for a moment, then pushed the root of narcissus in her direction. It was simplest task in the whole procedure to powder the roots, but it was crucial. Anything but the finest powder would produce a mediocre potion at best and more than likely had just caused the catastrophe boiling over Pettigrew's cauldron. Dorthea wasn't a girl easily deterred, however. She would grind the roots until it was the finest dust.

While Tallulah bleated about whatever it was spoiled purebloods complained about, Severus and Dorthea slowly brewed the finest potion of the group. After the root of narcissus was perfect, Dorthea began puncturing the azul pods and moving the miniscule seeds. Severus was impressed with the delicate steadiness of her hand. It wasn't something one expected of the rather masculine Dorthea Bulstrode.

It took nearly four and half hours, but finally, the potion was completed. The Slytherins were the last ones to finish up, but their potion was easily the best. Slughorn graded the Distillation Draughts more harshly than anything he had ever graded in class. Everyone walked away with at least an A, but most of the students were temporarily traumatized by the stress brewing the potion had caused.

Worse still, immediately after grading, they were forced to sit through a Potions Lecture in which Slughorn told them all why their potions, with the exception of the Slytherins', had been substandard. And right after dinner, which was barely a rest, came the Herbology lesson. Sprout lectured about every single plant and herb used in the potion, which totaled sixteen.

Mercilessly, Professor Sprout handed out Transfiguration, Defense Against the Dark Arts, Charms, Care of Magical Creatures, Arithmancy, Ancient Runes, Astronomy, and Divination homework. Most of the assignments involved experiments in the forest. Professor Kettleburn wanted drawings of the animals in Arden, Flitwick wanted his students to investigate the spells protecting Arden, and Professor Almida had requested they "tune into the psychic aura of the forest" and write a twenty inch essay about it.

"I can't write twenty inches about the psychic aura at Hogwarts!" Dorcas complained.

"How are we supposed to draw a star chart with all the trees in the way?" Tallulah wondered.

"We don't have time to walk all the way to borders of Arden to find out about the charms!" Lily cried.

"I am not going in search of a jarvey at this time of night," Sirius declared.

Professor Sprout waved her arms furiously to catch the students' attention. "May I remind you that this homework is not due until next Tuesday? You are expected to do some of this work between Field Study assignments."

"Please, professor," Annabel began, "will our assignments tomorrow be shorter than today?"

She voiced a question everyone had been wondering. They had barely finished their assignments on time. No one had more than ten minutes to spare between lessons, and they were all exhausted from the long day.

Sprout chuckled darkly. "Today was easy compared with tomorrow."

After packing away their homework, Meade plopped down on the stool across the small wooden work table from James. The expression on his face was somewhere between a forced smile and a grimace. James wished that Sirius had joined him in writing essays, but Piper had pulled him into the boys' tent when the professors weren't looking.

"Hey … James."

James narrowed his eyes. Meade hadn't called him by his first name since he'd taken that cheap shot against Frank Longbottom in the first Quidditch match of their second-year. Longbottom might be forgiving, but James had never forgotten that Gryffindor lost because Madam Hooch missed Meade bumphing.

"I noticed your … poetry," Meade's face twitched as he said the word, "on the trees. Too bad Lily isn't here to read it, huh?"

James's eyes turned into slits as he tried to work out what Meade was playing at. He was obviously poking fun at James, but to what purpose? To get himself hexed? If that was the case, he was doing a damn good job.

"Mind your own business," the Gryffindor growled.

Lily sighed deeply. _Boys are stupid_, she thought. Well, she wasn't a boy. She knew what would make Potter come around, and if Garry's pride had to suffer a blow for it, well, all the better. He needed a good ego-deflating.

"Look, James, I'm sorry that we're not friends anymore." Lily fought hard to keep a straight face. Potter looked stupefied. "I should have apologized a long time ago for bumping Frank."

"Bumping!" Potter demanded. "Bumping! You _Bumphed_, Meade, and you nearly took Frank's head off doing it! All for what? A lousy ten points? You were up by fifty!"

Lily stared at James, amazed. She hadn't expected that response. Of course, confusing bump and bumph hadn't helped, but in a way, she was glad for the confusion. There was a glimmer of hope, however small, that Potter cared about more than just Quidditch. So, Ravenclaw might have won even without the penalty. Potter was actually more concerned about a human being than a Quaffle. Amazing. She'd have never guessed.

Lily forced herself to focus. For whatever illogical reason she was happy to see a humane side of Potter, she had more important matters to think about, like convincing him to stop obsessing over her.

"I know," she rushed, cutting him off mid-sentence. "But we're working together now, all right? Let's call a truce, if nothing else."

"If nothing else, what's that supposed to mean?"

Lily hesitated. Did she plunge right in and suggest they should be friends again? No, that's something she would say to Dorcas and Annabel. It was too girly. Potter would never respond well to that. It would have to be something less intimate, more … manly. For the third time that day, Lily had to suppress the desire to hex Dorcas on the spot.

"Look, we've only got one more year at Hogwarts. If we don't start training the new Quidditch Captains in the Fall, both our teams will fall apart after we're gone. Now that both Amos and Elijah Diggory have graduated, Hufflepuff doesn't stand a chance. You really want the Quidditch Cup going to Slytherin because we couldn't lead our teams properly?"

Lily said all this in a rush, hoping beyond hope that her argument made a least some sense. She didn't care at all about who got the Quidditch Cup, but Garry and Potter both did. Common ground was a good thing.

"And how do I know you're not just suggesting this so you can find out all the secrets of the Gryffindor Quidditch Team?"

"Because you'll know all the same things about Ravenclaw." Her voice sounded more flippant than she meant it to. She could see that the tone had irritated Potter. She plunged on recklessly, barely considering her words. "And you know, I'm pretty good friends with Lily. I might be able to give you a few tips."

Potter laughed dismissively. "What can you possibly know about Evans that I don't?"

"Well, for starters, I know that she hates it when you call her Evans. It makes her feel like just another one of your acquaintances instead of your Housemate and friend."

Potter's eyebrows had disappeared into his messy bangs. "Wait. Evans considers me a friend?"

A thousand furious curses flew through Lily's head. For once, they weren't directed at Potter, but at herself. How could she be so foolish? She had let slip way too much. She hadn't meant to give Potter any encouragement at all. Now, she had practically invited him to How-To-Date-Lily Lessons.

Before she had to answer, Potter's expression changed. For once, the cocky smirk left his lips and was replaced with a genuine grin. "Well, that's something isn't it?"

Lily was so stunned by the answer she couldn't respond at all. She just sat there, mouth moving soundlessly. Suddenly, she realized that she wasn't looking at the same Potter who strutted around Hogwarts hexing little first-years just because he could. She was catching an unguarded glimpse of James, the intelligent, loyal, and brave young man. What surprised her even more was how drawn she was to him. If only he would stay this way, friendly and sincere, they could be …

Lily never finished that thought, either because she didn't know what they could be or because she was afraid to consider the possibilities. All she knew was that, for one brief moment, she was actually attracted to James Potter, and when he reverted back to the same old arrogant bully, she couldn't force herself to forget the glimpse of the real James. He was always there, somewhere deep beneath the surface, waiting to find his way out.

"All right, Garry," James said. "You tell me all about Evans, and we'll discuss a strategy so that our Houses have an even chance and Slytherin is obliterated."

Lily groaned inwardly. What had she gotten herself into?


	4. Touchstone

**Of Amortentia & Polyjuice Potion**

**Chapter Four**

"**Touchstone"**

When Dorcas woke on Friday morning, she felt pretty good considering that she'd slept on a lumpy mattress in a tent. Brilliant red sunlight was pouring through the forest, backlighting the trees and burning away the fog floating over the underbrush. The smell of bacon and eggs wafted in through the open flap of the tent.

Professor Sprout shoved a scroll of parchment in Dorcas's hand the moment she walked out of the tent. Apparently she was late, but that didn't stop her from having some breakfast before getting to work. Being consigned to collect toad eggs wasn't the most glamorous job, but it was really easy. Plus, individual assignments meant she didn't have to deal with Black. After saying farewell to Annabel, and avoiding Garry's—Lily's—glare, she headed into the forest.

Lake Arden was the most remote section the students would be working in during the Field Study. She had a half hour hike there and back, but that was fine with her. The morning air was crisp and invigorating, despite the chill in the air. She had always been an outdoor person, loving to run and climb trees and do all sorts of things her mother said were unladylike.

The lake turned out to be much bigger than Dorcas could have imagined. It was nearly fifty feet across at its widest and twice that in length. Clearly, it was wizard-made, as no natural lake would form in such a perfect oval with uniformly sloping banks. Even still, the wildlife of Arden had flocked to the lake. Birds and squirrels nestled in the trees, frogs and toads leapt on the water lilies, and magical creatures lapped at its murky waters.

There were many animals Dorcas expected to see, such as jarveys and bowtruckles and other British animals. Centuries of wizarding ecology experiments had also transported billywigs, horklumps, and pogrebins. The whole place had the feeling of a cageless zoo or glassless aquarium.

The jobberknolls and malaclaws scampered away as Dorcas approached the water's edge, but the clabberts swung silently in the high branches and dugbogs floated harmlessly (at least for the moment) in the center of the lake. Dorcas opened her potion kit and set to work collecting toad eggs. She had no idea that her good day was about to be utterly ruined.

Less than fifty feet away, in a dense copse of trees, Sirius and Piper were locked in a passionate, albeit meaningless, kiss. They had been in this position for nearly an hour. Only when the sun crested the tree tops and burned warmly against his face did Sirius realize the time. When Piper was around, young men tended to forget insignificant details like time.

"We really should get to work. I don't know about you, but I've got a hard assignment," he said.

Piper's full lips turned into a pout. "Who cares about the stupid Potions assignment?"

Sirius stared at her blankly for several seconds. She was beautiful, there was no denying that. She was tall and slim with a perfect hourglass figure, long flowing dark hair, and big, bright green eyes. But, Merlin, she was dumb as a doorknob. He wondered how she had got a spot on the Field Study. Yesterday, he had done all the work (despite what Meadowes thought, he had actually cataloged plants), and he was sure that today he would be brewing the potion alone.

"I do. Potions is important for an Auror."

"Well, sure," she replied, "but since when does Sirius Black have to study to get good grades?"

Sirius almost laughed out loud. Merlin, he loved that misconception! Being devilishly handsome and naturally brilliant made the ladies want him even more. Even though the latter wasn't exactly true. Contrary to popular belief, he and James did have to study. No, he didn't have to practice spells outside the classroom, but magical theories and rune translations weren't exactly innate knowledge.

"This isn't studying. We need these ingredients to brew the potion this afternoon."

Sirius was beginning to get agitated. He really wanted to get a start on this assignment, but he hated sounding like a bossy bookworm know-it-all.

"Fine. But hurry up. I'll get some alihosty leaves and be right back."

Sirius shook his head as he walked away. She sounded like collecting the plant was going to be easy. Alihosty bushes were notorious for spewing seeds at anyone who approached it. As the seeds caused severe anxiety attacks, it usually ended in disaster for anyone foolish enough to think of just grabbing a handful of leaves.

It was a running joke among the young men at Hogwarts that Piper was sorted into Ravenclaw because she was a cunning and calculating seductress—and brilliant at nothing else. Her grades were lower than Peter's and her ability with a wand, broom, and cauldron was questionable at best. The Slytherin girls said she was half-Squib, and although Sirius detested Slytherin girls, he was beginning to agree with them.

Piper's goal in life was no secret: she wanted to marry a rich wizard. Period. End of story. Why she had even applied for the Field Study was beyond his imagination. She couldn't possibly enjoy all the extra work, and as she didn't plan on attending any post-Hogwarts training program, she wasn't in it for the credit either.

Sirius knew what Piper was good for: making Meadowes jealous. Sure, she was a great kisser, but she was as vapid as vapid can get and carried on a conversation as well as a flobberworm.

Now, Meadowes, she was what was called a "great catch." She was beautiful, smart, talented, and utterly in love with him. Not that she showed it. She and Evans had some strange Anti-Marauder Cult going. Meadowes, Evans, and Knight were the only members of this evil subversive sect, which was ironic, because they were the three girls the Marauders wanted most.

Two years ago, Meadowes had worshiped the ground he walked on. She giggled when he talked to her, blushed when he smiled at her, and fell all over herself to make him happy. Just like every other girl at Hogwarts. During fourth-year, when she formed the Association for Werewolf Equality and staged a sit-in in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, they had talked and flirted for two days. Because there was no one better to ask out, Sirius had taken her to Hogsmeade.

That was what Sirius was confused about. The day wasn't half over when she pummeled him into the Hospital Wing with her ingenious, but devilish (not to mention painful) Boxing Hex. He didn't even know what he'd done wrong! She had loved that kiss, even if she didn't want to admit it. But from that day on, the sweet, noble, compassionate Dorcas Meadowes had become a vessel of hostility—and it was directed wholly at Sirius.

She shot him dirty looks and jinxes in the corridors, sabotaged his most brilliant pranks, and when she became a prefect, took massive amounts of points way from Gryffindor. Ever since that day in fourth-year Sirius had been in love with Dorcas Meadowes. He figured that she loved him too, but she was too proud to show it, so she masked her burning desire with blatant hatred. Evans did the same thing to James, and Knight did it to Peter—well, Knight was more disgusted than aggressively violent.

But the point was, these girls were insane. They were in love and denying it. It was the Marauders' job to show them the error of their ways through charm, flattery, and persistence. Sirius and James showed off their impressive magical skills in the hallways whenever Evans and Meadowes passed. The girls were so amazed, they actually lost all common sense and took points for hexing younger students.

Dorcas looked up when Black emerged from the tree line. She groaned audibly and shot him the nastiest look she could muster. When she went back to work, she was so irritated by his presence that, instead of scooping up the toad eggs, she scattered them all over the shallow, rocky lakebed.

She meticulously gathered them one-by-one and paused only to ward off the angry mother-toad, who had returned from a swim or whatever it was mother-toads did when they weren't watching their eggs.

"You might want to be careful," Black cautioned, "toads secrete hallucinogens."

Dorcas peered over her shoulder. Black was standing over her, smirking like he owned the forest. She scowled at him.

"Well, since I don't plan on _licking_ the toad …"

She turned back to the toad eggs, only to find the mother-toad had forgotten about her and was battling with a vicious malaclaw. Black brusquely shoved Dorcas out of the way and plunged calf-deep into the lake. He seized the malaclaw by the middle and lifted it from the water. On his way to capturing the creature, he destroyed the remaining toad eggs under his boots.

"What are you doing!" she demanded. She was about to unleash her fury for ruining her assignment, but she was distracted by the groping pinchers of the malaclaw. "You're supposed to Stun that thing first. If it pinches your hand off, you deserve it."

"I just need a few scales."

Sirius waved the lobster-like creature around like it was his wand. As she had predicted, the malaclaw wriggled free of his grip, and its massive claws latched onto Sirius's forearm. He shrieked like a girl and stumbled backwards, knocked into Dorcas, and sent her flying head first into the lake.

She emerged from the water sputtering. Really, she was cursing while trying to spit out mouthfuls of dirty lake water. The waves made by her unceremonious dive had also disrupted the peaceful sleep of a dugbog, and the log-like creature was swimming rapidly towards her. She jumped out of the lake just in time, but Sirius wasn't so lucky. The dugbog sank its sharp teeth and claws into his left leg.

Sirius had managed to get the malaclaw off his arm, and the creature seemed to sense that even its mighty pinchers could not bring down such large prey as a teenage wizard. It had begun to scamper off when it hit the ground, but when Sirius collapsed into the lake after being attacked by the dugbog, the malaclaw came back once more, seemingly for vengeance.

Dorcas marched away from the lake, dripping wet with her potions kit beneath her arm. She didn't feel bad at all for Sirius and purposely ignored his pleas for help.

"He had a wand," she said later, when Annabel admonished her for leaving anyone to the mercy of an angry malaclaw and a dugbog.

Madam Pomfrey seemed equally put out by the whole affair. Black was easily mended—just a few healing charms, an Anti-Infection Potion, some bandages, and he was right as rain. Even still, the nurse called Dorcas into the girls' tent alone.

"You were supposed to be around that area. Why did you not aid Mr. Black?"

Dorcas really wanted to say, "I thought Piper would be there, since she's been humping his leg for two days." Instead, she answered that she had already gathered all her ingredients and had been on her way back to camp.

As a result, Group C was very late getting lunch started. Remus made a valiant attempt at grilled cheese sandwiches, but the bread was blackened and the cheese still lumpy. Piper was too busy cooing over Sirius to worry about food, and Sirius claimed that his injuries kept him from doing strenuous activities like boiling water.

Needless to say, when Dorcas sat down to brew her potion that afternoon, her head was not in the right place.

"Focus, Dorcas," Remus pleaded. "I can't do this potion alone."

The Hufflepuff growled under her breath. "I'm sorry, Remus. It's Black! He's trying to annoy me on purpose."

"He always does that," the young man replied, dropping three alihosty leaves into the potion.

The clear, semi-viscous potion turned bright red and began hissing violently. Spirals of steam rose from the surface and curled tendril-like around the branches above their heads.

"But why does he hate me so much? You should have crushed those, by the way," Dorcas mentioned.

Remus tried to dig the leaves out of the potion, but it was too late. The runny, fire brigade-red liquid couldn't be salvaged. He gave up any attempt at brewing a decent potion and turned his attention to Dorcas.

"No, Sirius doesn't hate you at all. And you don't hate him."

"Excuse me? He does too hate me. Every time I turn around he's there doing something that makes me look like the bad guy because I have to take points."

"I noticed you have no rebuttal for the second half of my statement," Remus grinned.

Dorcas narrowed her eyes dangerously. The Gryffindor seemed to sense that he'd crossed the line in suggesting that Dorcas liked Sirius. He hadn't even gone that far, though. He had only said that she didn't _hate_ Sirius.

"Everyone knows she's hostile towards Black because he made her look the fool two years ago. Remember all her _cooing_ over him. Like Black was really interested in her political views."

Dorcas spun around, cheeks pink with embarrassment and anger. Standing over her was none other than her best friend in the whole world, Lily Evans disguised as Garry Meade. That comment was something Garry would say, but Lily? Dorcas wouldn't have thought it possible for her best friend to be so cruel.

"What do you know, _Meade_?" Dorcas demanded.

"I only know what you told me, _Meadowes_. Let's take a walk."

With that, Lily grabbed her friend's arm and practically dragged her out of the campsite. Remus was left with a ruined potion and a lot of confusion. Once inside the ring of trees, Lily cast the Muffliato spell. She raved for twenty minutes about Potter, like Dorcas didn't have more important matters at hand.

"Get over it, Lily! Merlin, it's not like he used an Unforgivable! He was trying to be romantic. If the worst of your troubles is a romantic admirer then you need to be bitch-slapped for complaining."

Lily looked stunned. "Since when do you yell at me?"

"Since today! Look, I know you don't like Potter because of his attitude, but Lily, at least he doesn't constantly bombard you with innuendo and hex you in the hallways. The worst he's ever done is ask you out! So sorry to ruin your pity-party, but Potter isn't all that bad. So here's your chance to make him see the error of his ways. You think I'll ever get that with Black? Hardly."

"Wait … Are you saying that I should … _give Potter a chance_?"

Dorcas sighed deeply and pinched the bridge of her nose. "I'm saying that I've been pushed to my limit today."

After many long hours of lectures, the professors decided to torture their students one final time by handing out grades. While the others complained about their less than stellar performances, Dorcas slipped away quietly. She didn't really want to do homework after such a terrible day, but she needed some time alone. She decided to go back to Lake Arden, where the trees were sparse, and do the star chart for Astronomy.

With her collapsible telescope, blank charts, quills, and ink pots, Dorcas entered the forest. She wrapped her cloak tight around herself to ward off the chill in the air. Her breath misted in front of her and her fingers were numb with cold, but she continued on. She needed just a few minutes alone to clear her head.

There was no way she could keep working under such stress. Black had stomped on her last nerve when he'd pushed her into that nasty lake. She would probably never get the taste of frog spawn out of her mouth or all the algae out of her hair. It was disgusting. Then, to have her two best friends push her buttons like that.

Remus was a dead man if he ever suggested anything like that ever again. And Lily, well, she had it easy with Potter. Potter had never charmed a Muggle light bulb to float over her head or hexed her into the Hospital Wing. Sure, Dorcas was volatile sometimes, but it was only because Black tortured her incessantly.

Dorcas plopped down in a grassy glade near Lake Arden and began rummaging through her bag. She stopped searching for a quill abruptly. She was sure she had heard a twig snap. Cautiously, she eased her wand out of her pocket, and barely breathing, she waited for the faintest sounds in the wood to her left.

The second she heard rustling leaves, she cast a nonverbal Impediment Jinx. After all, she didn't want to harm any poor animal or injure her classmates. Still, no one should be skulking about the forest at that time of night. When she went to investigate, Dorcas was sorry that she hadn't cast a more debilitating curse. Standing motionless next to a tree, but slowly regaining the use of his extremities, was Black.

"Oh, it's you."

She walked away without another word. A few seconds later, Black came crashing out of the trees, cursing under his breath.

"What are you doing out here?" he demanded.

"Homework. Why are you following me?"

"I'm not following! I'm doing homework."

Dorcas allowed herself one humorless chuckle. "Right. Sirius Black is doing homework the first night it's assigned. That's a good one, Black. But you'll have to do better than that. I am top in our class, you know."

"I thought Lily was top in our class," he countered. Dorcas glared at his smirking face. "Then there's James, me, Remus, and _then_ you. Five isn't bad, but definitely not _the_ top of our class, now it is?"

"Now is not the time, Black," she growled.

Furious at being interrupted, especially by Black, she started shoving charts and books back into her bag. She knew she would never be able to concentrate, even if he left her alone again.

"Leaving so soon? What's the matter? No suitable comeback? Don't you want to tell me that I'm a prat? Or that I'm a worthless waste of space?"

"I've never said that!" Dorcas cried.

"Oh, yes you have. And worse, so before you get all indignant, let's talk about this afternoon."

For unknown reasons, Dorcas found herself sitting on the grass again. She wanted very much to hit him over the head with her knapsack, but something stayed her hand. Whatever it was, she was already annoyed at herself for letting Black control her actions with smooth words. She was not going to let him in her head.

"Here you are, Hufflepuff Prefect, President of the Association for Werewolf Equality, and all the rest, yet you unjustly take points from Gryffindor. That's not _fair_, is it? You constantly insult one of your classmates, and when said classmate is being mauled by wild animals …" Here, Dorcas rolled her eyes. "… you walk away. That's not very _kind_, is it? Then you told Madam Pomfrey you hadn't heard said classmate's pleas for help. That's not _honest_, is it? What next, Meadowes? Am I going to find out you're not _hard-working_ either?"

Meadowes looked like she meant to yell or curse or jinx, but what happened shocked Sirius more than any of her usual behaviors. The silly girl started crying! Like he had meant any of those things! She never could tell when he was jesting and when he was being earnest, but he thought this had been rather obvious.

Sirius swallowed thickly, unsure of what to do. Crying girls and Sirius Black did not mix well. Women in his family didn't cry—they threw things, they shrieked, and they used Unforgivables, but they did not cry. He cursed under his breath. In situations like this, he always asked himself the same question: What would Moony do? Unfortunately, the Marauders didn't sit around discussing crying girls, so Sirius had no idea how his friend would handle the situation.

He reached over hesitantly and patted her on the back, but that didn't seem to help. She just kept crying … sobbing … wailing … sniffling …. It seemed to go on forever, although in reality, only two minutes passed.

"I just … I don't understand … You … I never … _Why_?" Meadowes asked, between hiccoughs.

Sirius blinked several times. What the hell? Did she really expect him to say, "Because I like you, but I'm worried you're still mad about our first—last—only—date?" He blinked again. Luckily, Meadowes kept talking and spared him the awkward moment.

"I mean, why do you hate me so much?"

"What? No! I don't hate you, Meadowes."

She looked up at him with watery eyes. "Sure you do. Why else would you terrorize me? You know, I only say those things and take points from you because you're a total asshole."

He was uncertain about how to react to being called an asshole. She said it so matter-of-factly that he knew there was no point in arguing. Anyway, he wasn't about to have a heart-to-heart with anyone, let alone Dorcas Meadowes.

"Well, I don't hate you. I only do what I do because you take points all the time."

"You started it!"

"I did not!"

"Yes, you did!"

"No, I didn't."

Suddenly, Meadowes burst out laughing. "That was … very … mature, wasn't … it?" she gasped, between laughs.

Not for the first time, Sirius thought about how odd this girl was. Who really belly laughed minutes after they'd been sobbing? Briefly, he wondered if he and his friends were so immature that nothing sounded childishly amusing. No, of course they weren't, he reasoned. If they were that juvenile, they wouldn't have become Animagi for Remus.

He was so relieved that the tears had stopped that he was willing to say almost anything to keep Meadowes in a pleasant mood.

"How about a truce?"

Meadowes arched an eyebrow. "And what happens if we break this truce?"

"If you break it, I get a get-out-of-detention-free card."

"Fair enough. And if you break it, I'll hex you and you're not allowed to fight back."

Sirius didn't like the sound of that at all, but it was too late to call the whole thing off. He'd sound like a faithless Slytherin if he did that. After they shook on it, Dorcas finished packing away her things.

"Where you going?"

"To bed. It's late and we have an early morning."

"Oh, right."

Sirius followed her to the edge of camp, where she extinguished her wand and crept towards the girls' tent.

"Hey, Black," she whispered.

"Yeah?"

"If you tell anyone I cried or mention it ever again, losing a few points and serving some detentions will be the least of your worries."

With that, she slipped into the tent, satisfied that she and Black had reached an understanding … for the time being.


	5. Phoebe & Silvius

**Of Amortentia & Polyjuice Potion**

**Chapter Five**

"**Phoebe & Silvius"**

Saturday morning dawned clear and bright. Normally, the students would have lain in bed late into the morning, enjoying the holiday and all the perks that came with no classes. This morning, however, the students on the Field Study were already awake, dressed, and eating breakfast when the first rays of sun shot through the dense forest.

The dew had turned to frost, and the air was so chilly that even the magically conjured fire did not warm the students' hands. The newly bloomed leaves were coated with ice and a thin layer of snow lay on the ground. The students had wrapped themselves in their thickest cloaks and pulled on gloves.

Madam Pomfrey and the Professors didn't seem to mind the weather at all. In fact, they had seemed to expect it. It was, after all, early April in northern Scotland. Madam Pomfrey gently rebuffed the students who complained while Professor Sprout passed out the assignments for the day. Annabel hastily unrolled the parchment, wondering what daunting and evil task the professors had thought up today. To her surprise, the sheet was blank except for the words: _To be announced_.

For a moment, Annabel thought they might be having a day off, but her hopes were dashed when Slughorn stood up from his seat and addressed the students.

"Today, you and your partner will be collecting all the necessary ingredients for the potions assignment. As you can see, you've not been given a list. That is because every group will be brewing a different potion."

He raised his wand cried, "_Accio Potions Books_!" There was a great surge of wind as the huge books came soaring through the air and arranged themselves neatly in front of the plump professor.

"And you won't be using these," he added.

No one looked comfortable with this idea. Even Snape was peering at the stack of textbooks with some trepidation. Dorcas and Remus exchanged dark glances. Annabel felt her head spinning and a queasy feeling in her stomach. There was no way she could brew anything without the instructions in front of her! That was impossible. To even joke about making them do that was cruel … sinister … _wicked_.

"If you'll take a look at your potions assignment …" He paused while the students wrestled with the wax seal on the second scroll. "… you will find the potion you are required to brew. You have until five-thirty to complete this assignment. At that time, each group will present their work to myself and Professor Sprout for grading."

Across the campfire, Dorcas let out a relieved sigh and laughed lightly. "A Sleeping Draught," she said to Remus. "We did this the first day of first year."

"Today might not be as hard as we thought," he replied.

Annabel watched with wide eyes as her friends walked into the forest. They thought a Sleeping Draught was easy? Well, technically it was, but only with the book in front of her. She glanced down at her scroll again.

"Hey, Pete, do you remember how to make a Remembrance Potion?"

"No," he admitted, "but I forget how to make a Forgetfulness Draught."

One corner of Annabel's mouth curled, then a smile spread across her lips, and before she knew it, she was laughing at Peter's joke. It was actually pretty witty, she thought. Potter and Black might have been able to come up with better, but she gave Peter credit for the speed of his reply.

"Right. Let's get to work on this. I'm pretty sure I know some of the ingredients we need." She began jotting down a list of supplies onto the blank parchment.

An hour later, Annabel and Peter were still sitting in the forest looking thoughtfully at the sheet of parchment as if that would make the ingredients pop into their heads. Annabel knew they had only a handful of the necessary components written down, but she couldn't for the life of her think of anything else.

"All right," Peter declared finally, "I know what to do."

He stood up resolutely and began walking further into the forest. Annabel hastily slung on her pack and jogged after him.

"There's always a simple solution when I can't remember a spell or potion," he explained, turning his head side to side.

"What's this miracle answer?"

"Find James."

Annabel was so disappointed with his response she stopped walking. Logically, she should have objected knowing that Lily would be with Potter gathering ingredients for their own potion and Lily, no matter who she was impersonating, would never allow anyone to cheat. Instead, she found herself spouting the most illogical arguments.

"No, Pete, we can do this ourselves. I made pretty good marks on this potion, and I think I can manage to brew something that at least looks like a Remembrance Draught. All we have to do is find the ingredients, and we have until five o'clock to do that."

Peter looks skeptical. "You can brew a Remembrance Potion in half an hour?"

"Yup."

"But doesn't the shredded root of basil have to simmer for forty-five minutes?"

Annabel shifted her weight uncomfortably. That step sounded familiar, but she wasn't sure if it for a Remembrance Draught or a Wakefulness Potion.

"Erm … no. But shredded root of basil is another ingredient. See? We're on the right track!"

"What if we can't remember all of the ingredients?"

Annabel threw her bag on the ground and plopped onto a tree stump. She jumped up just as quickly and began brushing the moss off her backside.

"We will. I know we will. At least, I don't have much memory when it comes to Potions, but you've never skipped a step in class, even if …" She trailed off, not wanting to offend him.

"Even if the potions didn't always turn out right? You can say it, Anna, I know it's true. But James says not to worry about it. Even Remus isn't good at Potions. Sirius says it's the curse of the nerds to be good at that subject, then James hexed him, because Lily is great at Potions, of course."

He smiled, amused by some memory that Annabel could only guess at. The whole school knew when Potter and Black were mad at each other, because it caused a gaping chasm among the student body, with one half staunchly supporting Potter and the other half behind Black. But they'd never come to blows—magical or Muggle—outside of their dormitory, and even that fight was hearsay.

What truly astonished Annabel was not learning that Potter and Black sometimes jinxed each other, but Peter's reaction to the memory. His whole face lit up with a smile. He wasn't attractive, not by even the most liberal measure, but neither was he as repulsive as she always thought.

Ever since he'd called her pretty and smart, she hadn't been able to forget how amazing it felt to finally be regarded on the same level as Dorcas and Lily. For the first time, here was someone who wasn't drooling over Lily or ogling Dorcas. Peter was interested in her, Annabel Knight, and not just to get to Dorcas and Lily. She was sure of that much. Potter had dibs on Lily and everyone but Dorcas could see that Black was in love with her. Peter would never betray his best friends like that.

In the distance, the midmorning sunlight reflected off a mirror. It was Lily attracting notoriously vain fairies while Potter snuck around to steal their eggs, but they weren't visible through the trees. The flash of light distracted Annabel for a moment.

She blinked and shook her head. Surely, she hadn't been considering how _desirable_ Peter Pettigrew was. Ugh. That was … But the mirror caught the glare of the sun again, and Annabel was harshly reminded of her own thoughts just that morning while getting ready in the bathroom.

There was nothing she could do about her hair out here in the middle of nowhere. It was doomed to lay flat and a hundred fly-away hairs would give her a permanently electrocuted looked before ten a.m. Tentatively, she touched her hair. Yup, already the moisture had caught the split ends. Try as she might, she could never get rid of the slick spots on her face or tweeze her eyebrows into submission. She was a mess and she knew it.

But Peter didn't think so. He thought she was pretty.

"You sure we can do it?" he asked.

"I'm positive, Pete. I know you'll remember the ingredients."

* * *

Lily watched Potter running from the fairies. They had caught him stealing their eggs when he tripped over a tree root and, rather foolishly, cursed at it. His voice disturbed their preening long enough for them to realize what was going on.

Oh, this was a disaster. He was flailing around and waving his arms in the air like an idiot. The fairies attacked relentlessly. They dropped from the sky and tugged on his hair or poked his eyes, then fluttered back into the air, screeching at him in their falsetto voices.

She considered leaving him. It wasn't exactly payback for making her life Hell, but it was funny. A sense of guilt settled into her stomach. If she didn't help, she was no better than he was. True, she wasn't directly bullying him, and he did deserve it, but letting it happen when she had the ability to intervene was just as bad.

But it was more than that. She hated to admit it, but she felt the tiniest bit of affection for him. He had spent a lot of time making tree carvings and writing poetry, albeit bad poetry, about her. Maybe he wasn't all bad. There was something human underneath the tough exterior and personality of a disgruntled troll.

"_Immoblius!_" Lily cried.

The fairies froze in mid-flight like baubles of light hanging on an evergreen. Potter picked two of them out of his hair and tossed them on the ground. His face was scratched and his glasses were askew. He didn't crack a smile or offer any thanks.

"Could have reacted a bit quicker."

All minute traces of affection dissolved instantly.

* * *

Two o'clock. Dorcas huffed again, but her ill-temperament didn't make the gelatin glob in the potion turn yellow. Remus poked it with his wand, but it only wiggled like Jell-O.

"How did this happen?" Dorcas moaned.

"You jinxed us by saying it was easy."

She shoved her friend playfully, but really Dorcas was wondering if he was right. The potion was ridiculously easy, yet here they were, at two o'clock, still not finished with the damned thing.

"So …" Remus began, while digging out the semi-solid mass.

That was never good. Dorcas had had a lot of conversations with Remus that began with "So …" and none of them were to her liking.

"… about what I mentioned about you and Sirius the other day."

"Yeah," she replied, hesitantly. She wasn't holding out for an apology. Remus would have just said "sorry" and been done with it.

"Well, I noticed that he came in late last night …" Dorcas fingered her wand in what she hoped was a threatening manner. It wasn't. It just looked like she was petting the wood. "… and when he came in, Garry made some crack about you being in love with Sirius."

Dorcas's cheeks turned pink. So that was Lily's reaction to their rather one-sided conversation, was it? Dorcas had yelled and pleaded and nearly cried about Black torturing her and Lily had walked away under the impression that Dorcas was in love with him? For a moment, Dorcas almost considered barreling through the forest, finding Lily, and using Unforgivables, but she changed her mind at last second. There were worse things than Unforgivables. Oh, yes, much worse. Once they were finished with his dratted potion, she would launch her diabolical plan.

A plan that involved James Potter.

* * *

Not far away, Severus was leaning against the great trunk of an ancient oak tree. The potion was already brewed and bottled. He opened one eye halfway and stared down the vial of pale blue potion. He wished he could have consulted his textbook. He had conducted a series of experiments on the potion only weeks ago and made numerous annotations in the margins. He thought he had remembered most of the changes from the textbook method, but something didn't seem quite right. Perhaps it was the viscosity, but he was positive that the potion was a shade darker than it was supposed to be.

"If you stare at that vial anymore, it's going to crack," Dorthea teased.

Severus chose to ignore the mocking tone of voice. The girl had run herself ragged fetching immaculate ingredients and preparing each additive with painstaking perfection. She had earned his appreciation at least.

Close by, Tallulah was fidgeting constantly. Severus turned his attention to the prissy girl. She was scooting along the ground like a dog with worms. Occasionally, she would relax for a moment only to begin the ridiculous maneuver all over again.

"What are you doing?" Dorthea demanded.

"There's no even spot to sit," Tallulah whined. "Branches and twigs and roots and nasty dirt," she muttered.

Dorthea gazed at Severus curiously. There was an unusual grin plastered on his lips. He decided to let her in on his private witticism. But later, when Tallulah wasn't around to hear herself compared to a disease-ridden mutt.

* * *

"And you were to brew a Sleeping Potion, was that it?" Slughorn asked.

"Ah, no, sir. We had the Forgetfulness Draught," Sirius replied.

Slughorn cocked one eyebrow as he raised the vial. The acidic green concoction in the crystal vial was most certainly not a Forgetfulness Draught. In fact, Horace was at a loss to even begin describing it.

Beside the portly professor, Sprout glared reproachfully at Piper Robins. Her hair was tangled like she'd been riding a broom for hours. The Herbology professor could scarcely chide the girl for that. After all, she was the queen of fly-aways and she knew it. But this girl usually looked flawless except for the disgusted look she had on her face every time she walked into Greenhouse Five. Black and Robins had not been focused on brewing a potion, that much was certain.

Pomona didn't approve or disapprove of any behavior she didn't see. It wasn't fair to judge someone on rumor and hearsay. But the professor knew for certain that Dorcas Meadowes disliked the girl, and Dorcas was such a lovely young woman. Just thinking about her humanitarian efforts regarding werewolves made Pomona smile. The girl had a Black Thumb, poor luck for a Hufflepuff, but her heart was in the right place. If Dorcas thought Piper was a rotten egg, she probably was.

Now, Sirius Black on the other hand, was a perfect gentleman. He opened doors for young ladies and professors, turned his homework in on time, and served his detentions without a word of complaint. He would have done better to avoid punishment, but boys will be boys. Pomona felt it was her duty put him on the right path. Piper was a surefire candidate for alimony payments.

"I believe it's time to rotate the group of three, don't you, Horace?" Without waiting for his reply, Pomona plowed on. "Tomorrow, Miss Robins, you will be paired with Tallulah Parkinson. You, Mr. Black, will be with Mr. Lupin and Miss Meadowes."

She ignored Horace's shock and disapproval. Remus and Dorcas. Now those were two fine students and good examples.

* * *

Nearly everyone turned in for bed late. The assignment hadn't taken that much effort on anybody's part, except for Annabel and Peter it seemed. The grading had been rather harsh for everyone, even Snape only scrapped an E (it was a shade darker and the viscosity was off at bit), but most groups had finished up by four o'clock and had time to work on their other homework. Peter and Annabel were not so lucky.

They had managed to gather what they thought were all of the ingredients, and it had turned out Peter only forgot one. True to her word, Annabel had whipped up a concoction that at least resembled a Remembrance Potion in half an hour, although she had no pretense that is actual was a Remembrance Potion. Slughorn and Sprout had been more than generous with their grade, a P, and sent them off to dinner with gentle rebuffs about retaining lessons better.

That said, it was now ten o'clock and they were just getting started on their other homework. Both were painfully aware that they had only two more days to complete their mountain of homework. Once again, the professors had indicated that the next day's assignment would be even more difficult.

Doubtful, Annabel thought. Nothing could be quite as bad as their sinister little experiment to see who remembered things from first-year and who only studied for the next test.

"We might as well get this out of the way," Annabel sighed.

Peter looked longingly at the boys' tent, where his bed would be nice and warm with the canvas tent flaps shutting out the nippy air. He finally dug out his homework, consigned to staying up late out in the cold. Annabel was his tutor for Care of Magical Creatures. She was great with animals: fearless, authoritative, and loving all at the same time.

Kettleburn's assignment turned out to be impossible to do at night. He wanted sketches of jarveys, malaclaws, gnomes, and unicorns, just to name a few. Neither Peter nor Annabel had any desire to go traipsing through forest after dark. Instead, they pulled out other homework and worked in silence.

Annabel decided she might as well get Arithmancy over with. She hated math, all kinds of it, no matter its uses. In primary school, she had mastered addition, subtraction, multiplication, and short division. But that was it. She never understood long division, angles, conversions, or equations. She had been talked into taking Arithmancy as a NEWT course against her better judgment.

It was Dorcas's fault. Her best friend had whined for days on end about being alone in Divination and Arithmancy until Lily had given in and signed up for the classes. Not wanting to be left out, Annabel signed up too. She had done reasonably well on the OWL, and Professor Vector allowed anyone earning an A to take the NEWT course, because not many people were that interested in Arithmancy anyway, and she seemed to understand how difficult her subject was.

So, here was Annabel, struggling to recall what the significance of the number 4 was, when it was first preceded by an 8, which came after a 2, but came before the sum of 62 and the subject's year of birth. Dorcas knew all of this, and it would serve her right if Annabel marched into the tent and forced her best friend to come help her.

Peter only noticed the frustration on Annabel's face when he started packing up his parchment and books. He had finished one assignment, and that was enough for him. He was exhausted. He would just find some other time to copy Sirius's homework (James had this high-and-mighty 'moral code.' He lectured Peter about constantly about 'fine lines' and 'shades of gray' and the difference between helping and hurting, so he'd given up on his best friend and went to Sirius instead).

"Anna?"

"What? Peter? I'm sorry, I can't help you right now. This assignment is driving me insane!"

"What is it?"

"Arithmancy," she growled, throwing her quill down.

It bounced off her parchment, making a hole the center of her long equation, and rolled off the table. Peter caught it before it hit the ground.

"Then maybe I can help you. I'm in that class too."

Annabel couldn't restrain her laugh. She knew Peter was in their Arithmancy class, and it was a joke among the top students (except Remus, who was too kind to laugh at one of his friends). How Peter Pettigrew had made it into Arithmancy when Potter and Black hadn't scored high enough on their OWLs was beyond everyone's reckoning. The whole school knew Peter had gotten into most of his classes because of their help.

"Have you looked at these problems yet? Vector must be furious that we're missing her class on Monday and Tuesday. She's normally pretty good about assigning easier problems. These are terrible!"

"Not really," Peter said mildly. "It only took me …" he paused to glance at his watch, "… twenty-five minutes."

Annabel stared at him. Finally, she shook her head and shut her mouth. "Are you telling me that you understand this stuff?"

"Sure. Every phenomenon in the universe has a mathematical explanation, so if you want to predict the next snowstorm—that's problem number fourteen—you take the numeric equivalent of the Charm to create snow, figuring in the standard 4.14387 for natural events, subtract the 3.4 percentage error caused by this being non-wizard stimulated, and calculate these numbers in the formula for non-magical, annual occurrences.

"Then, if you want to find out how the subject will be affected by the snowstorm, use Merlin's Thirty-Ninth Equation on Numerology. Since problem fourteen assumes that we are the subject, use your own birthday."

Annabel just stared, unable to comprehend anything he had just said. She had learned the importance of 4.14387 and 3.4 and all sixty-seven of Merlin's numeric theories, but she didn't have any idea when to use them or why. And this explanation coming out of Peter Pettigrew's mouth was even more unthinkable. He sounded so … well, brilliant. Annabel pinched herself to make sure she wasn't dreaming.

"When's your birthday, Anna?"

"June 24, 1962."

"So, that's 6-2-4-1-9-6-2 … 30, and three plus zero means that your ruling number is 3, right?"

Annabel could only nod. Peter continued, unaffected by her awestruck gaze.

"Then we put 3 into Merlin's Thirty-Ninth and look up that number in _Handbook to Merlin's Numerology_ …" Peter flipped through the massive book and declared, "The answer is that the next snowstorm will find you safe at Hogwarts. See not that difficult."

Annabel shook her head. "Peter, you never cease to amaze me."

He smiled shyly, as if suddenly realizing that he had sounded very intelligent for a few minutes. Annabel flipped to the next page in the book.

"Do you think I could call in a favor for all those Care of Magical Creatures assignments I helped you with?"

"Of course!" Peter agreed, scooting closer to her. "I'm always happy to help. Especially you, Anna."


	6. Ganymede

**Of Amortentia & Polyjuice Potion**

**Chapter Six**

"**Ganymede"**

Lily rolled out of bed on Sunday morning. Well, she almost rolled out of bed until she remembered that everyone in the tent thought she was Garry Meade. In her present state—red hair, green eyes, female parts—she wouldn't fool anyone, even Potter without his glasses on. On second thought, especially not Potter.

Just thinking about that exasperating, arrogant prig made her want to throw something. Hard. At his head. Then there was the matter of her promise. Through some trick of magic or mental insanity, Lily, as Garry, had agreed to teach Potter what Lily really wanted in a boyfriend.

As she snuck into the bathroom with a vial of Polyjuice Potion, her brain was grasping for any way to get out of that arrangement. More than likely Potter would call her on breaking a promise, then like a complete caveman imbecile, challenge her to a duel … or just hex her. The latter was more than likely since James Potter was a belligerent little wanker.

Lily grimaced as she swallowed the Polyjuice Potion. After her first day of being Garry, she had devised some clever ways to get around the less pleasant aspects of being a boy. For instance, she took showers before downing the potion and drank as little as possible during the day so she could use the restroom in the middle of the night without cringing, gagging, or crying.

"Hey, Meade."

Lily looked up just in time to see Potter drop his towel before stepping into the shower. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying desperately to block out the image of Potter naked. She shuddered. It wouldn't go away. Nothing that terrible would ever go away. She practically bolted out the door. She didn't want to see anyone else getting into the showers.

What was it with boys and communal showers? The thought repulsed most girls, but boys didn't seem to have the slightest issue with it. Even around Dorcas and Annabel, her two best friends in the whole world, she remained tightly wrapped in a towel, and they paid her the same courtesy.

Lily was beginning to see just how strange boys were. Their messes and macho prides were no secret. Anyone within a fifty mile radius of Hogwarts could smell the landfill the sixth-year Gryffindor boys called a dormitory. Honestly, there were probably things growing in there by now—molds and mildews and new evolutionary creatures that fed off unclean underwear.

But, no, that wasn't the worst. They seemed incapable of saying the words, "Well done, mate." If she, as Garry, received an E, someone else got an O. When telling stories, they constantly strove to outdo each other. Peter's grandmother's sixteen cats was nothing compared to Black's uncle's thirty-seven dogs or Snape's one hundred and seventy-three five-legged gorillas. Okay, so she was exaggerating a bit. But, honestly, couldn't they just listen to a story and absorb it? No, wait, they couldn't even listen to a story.

Just last night, Remus had said, "Dorcas was acting strangely today." And what did Black say? "Yeah, she's gorgeous." Lily had almost objected aloud. What in the world did Dorcas's attractiveness have to do with her behavior? Pea-brains.

Lily wrapped herself in Meade's heavy cloak before trudging out to the campfire. Breakfast wasn't ready yet, but a pot of hot chocolate was bouncing from student to student filling tea cups and sloshing scalding liquid all over the frozen ground.

While Lily sipped, her mind strayed. At first she watched Dorcas and Annabel chatting, but not being able to contribute in any unsuspicious manner made her grouchy, so she turned her eyes towards the fire pit.

If she was being honest with herself, she had discovered one thing that completely baffled her. She had no logical explanation for this anomaly, and it made her decidedly uncomfortable. Despite all her ravings about the absurdities of the male race, there seemed to be one boy immune to such childish antics.

Lily could scarcely believe she was admitting this, but when compared to his friends, Potter was actually—Lily swallowed deeply before even allowing this adjective to rise from her subconscious—mature. Even Remus couldn't resist the banter, but Potter seemed above it all somehow.

Lily shook her head. He wasn't really mature, she reasoned. He probably thought everyone already knew he had the best stories so why bother with it? Yeah, that was it. As Lily accepted a plate of bacon and eggs from Tallulah, she tried to convince herself she actually believed that. But there was no other explanation, right? Potter was many things, but not mature.

Lily stabbed her bacon, moody that Potter was occupying so much of her time. She had other things to worry about, like taking enough Polyjuice Potion, homework, friends, family, her owl—anything was more important than contemplating Potter's barely existent personality.

"That bacon must have really offended you," Potter commented, taking the seat next to Lily.

Lily lifted her eyes skyward, silently asking the gods why they had chosen to inflict James Potter on her. It was too early in the morning! Just when she thought he was absorbed in his breakfast, he said the last thing Lily wanted to hear.

"So, when are you going to tell me what Evans wants in a man?"

She breathed deeply, trying very hard to maintain her composure. Garry never lost his cool except on the Quidditch Pitch.

"I can't really _tell_ you anything." Potter opened his mouth, but she barreled on with her memorized speech. "It's more of a demonstration."

She had thought about this quite a bit, and had decided that, if she had to spend more time than necessary in Potter's presence, she was going to make it worth her while. That is, it was going to be painful for him. Even though she didn't want to give him Lily Lessons, she wanted to be prepared just in case. She had put together a veritable Boot Camp, and with any luck, she'd have Potter stomping off into the forest within minutes.

"We can do it between assignments today or tonight."

"Happy Easter, everyone!" Professor Sprout said cheerily. "We have a treat for you today, since you can't be up at the castle enjoying chocolate and sweets in front of a warm fire."

Lily grinned at the Herbology professor. Hufflepuff kindness was a wonderful thing. All of the students seemed to agree, even the Slytherins looked less surly than usual, and Tallulah was almost bouncing up and down with unrestrained giddiness.

"Yesterday, while myself and Professor Slughorn were grading your potions, Madam Pomfrey took it upon herself to plan this little … ah, adventure. Hidden throughout the forest are nearly one hundred Easter eggs, all filled to the brim with sweets. Your assignment for this morning is to have an Easter Egg Scavenger Hunt!"

The eleven sixteen-year-olds didn't react quite as enthusiastically as Professor Sprout had imagined they would. Still, they were all relieved to have the morning free from school work. Walking through the forest was much easier than digging up Flutterby Bush roots or catching jarveys.

"The point is to use only magic to find the eggs. They're all very well hidden, and you won't be able to see, smell, or feel them. They'll only show themselves if magic touches them."

Now that sounded more like an adventure, Lily thought. She had spent every Easter Sunday during her childhood running around the backyard searching for eggs, so the whole thing had seemed boring just a moment ago. But a magical Scavenger Hunt was much more exciting, at least to a Muggle-born. The purebloods looked only faintly interested.

"Here is your first clue. Everyone's is the same, but I'm sure it will lead you in different directions." Sprout passed around several small scrolls. Potter took the red parchment and unrolled it. "All the eggs are colored-coded," Sprout continued, "If you happen to find one that is not the color of your parchment, please leave it alone. With every egg, there is also a clue that will lead you to the next. The first team to find all of their eggs will receive a prize. Off you go."

The students huddled together for a few moments, figuring out their clues, then each group dispersed into the forest. The woods were lit like a rainbow as each group used a different spell to look for their first egg.

"What's our clue?" Lily asked.

"_A simple spell is all you need, _

_Just three words you should speak, _

_And you will succeed, _

_In finding the fifteen eggs you seek_," Potter read.

"So … wait, one spell will reveal all our eggs?" Lily asked.

"Yup." Potter raised his wand and opened his mouth.

"Hold on just a moment! If it's the wrong one, we might make the eggs hide themselves permanently or something. Let me think."

Potter looked very annoyed, but Lily ignored him. She walked around in a small circle, staring at the ground and muttering.

"Invisible Charm, one word … _Reveal your secrets?_ No, wand has to be touching … Treasure Charm, two words … Anti-Disillusion, one word …"

Behind her, Potter had had enough. He raised his wand again. "_Accio Red Eggs!_"

Lily spun around, her jaw slightly opened. Was it really that easy? A Summoning Charm? A whooshing sound shortly preceded fifteen red Easter eggs landing neatly at Potter's feet.

"Oh, well done, Mr. Potter! Take twenty points for Gryffindor! I knew you were the cleverest student in your year, but even the most intelligent person can overlook what's right in front of their face," Professor Sprout blustered. "Here is your and Mr. Meade's prize." She handed each of them a slip of parchment. It was a coupon for one free item from Zonko's. "You're free for the rest of the morning."

Lily considered going back to sleep, but Potter looked like he had something else on his mind.

"So, how about this demonstration?"

* * *

Lily trudged into the forest, muttering under her breath. A fanged frisbee from Zonko's was not worth spending the entire morning with James Potter and talking about his obsession with her. Her only hope was that her diabolical plan would work. That's what she was muttering about—how to successfully pull this off without making Potter think Garry Meade was trying to hoodwink him.

Near Lake Arden, in a clearing surrounded by beech trees, Lily stopped walking. Something small and pale lilac had caught her eye. Yes, this was the perfect place for their first lesson. Luck was on her side.

"All right, Potter," she began, turning abruptly. "I don't exactly delight in watching anyone make a fool of himself, so I don't generally observe when Evans rejects you. Why don't you show me your usual method of asking her out?"

Lily had to bite her bottom lip to keep from laughing. Potter had such a nasty look on his face, he almost reminded her of Snape sneering at a Muggle-born. Huffing, he glanced around, perhaps to cool down after being directly insulted or maybe noticing the newly blooming flowers for the first time. Lily's hopes soared as Potter stomped across the clearing.

_Lilies_, James thought, picking one of the delicate purple flowers. They had always been his favorites since he was a little boy. He had fond memories of tearing up his mother's flower beds by crash-landing his toy broomstick. They had stained his hands purple, then he terrorized the house-elf by pressing his palms to the eggshell walls. Not that he had done it specifically to make more work for Jilly. He wasn't a Slytherin after all. He was just a little boy having fun.

Meade was standing across the clearing with one eyebrow raised, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. James sighed. He couldn't believe he was about to present Meade with the lily like he was wooing Evans. He shuddered at the thought of how much dueling it was going to take to repair his damaged masculinity.

"Pretend I'm Lily," Meade ordered, once James had stood up.

James narrowed his eyes. Meade was definitely trying not to laugh. Bastard. He took every opportunity he could to belittle James. Why had he agreed to this? He closed his eyes, breathed deeply, and imaged Evans's face.

When he opened his eyes, Meade looked serious again. James stuck one hand in his hair, ruffled it up, resolutely ignored Meade's eye rolling, and sauntered across the clearing.

"A lily," James said jauntily.

Meade looked between James's face and the flower held in his hands several times. Twice he opened his mouth, but then shut it just as quickly. Finally, he spoke.

"Potter, that's an orchid."

James stared at Meade for a pregnant moment. He was taking the mickey. He had to be! James knew what lilies looked like! They were … like the flower in his hand! … Right? Yeah, of course … maybe? Orchids were purple too, though …

James's cheeks burned with humiliation as he thought of all those times he had given Evans orchids like they should have meant something special to her. For the longest time, Peter had assured him that sentimentality caused the tears in Evans's eyes. Maybe it was laughter?

James threw the orchid aside and turned his back on Meade. Merlin, he hated that boy! He did this on purpose, just to have a laugh. But more importantly, how was he ever going to face Evans again? Now that he knew he'd made a fool of himself, he couldn't just strut up to her and hand her some lilies. She would notice the difference! Not that it was his fault anyway! It was Mr. and Mrs. Evans's mistake! Who named their kids after flowers anymore? Only burnout American hippies still named their children Sunshine and Peace and Lily.

Lily's stomach hurt from repressed laughter. Finally! Finally she had made Potter feel as stupid as she did when he asked her out every other day! Most of her boyfriends had broken up with her because they considered Potter competition. She really liked some of those boys too. Now he knew what humiliation felt like! Not that he would ever be empathetic. Potter was too self-involved for that.

"All right, so no more giving Lily orchids," she chuckled. Potter's hazel eyes bored into her, but she ignored him. "Secondly, we have to work on that hair-ruffling thing. She thinks it's ridiculous. You already look like you've been in a fight with a renegade hippogriff, there's no need to mess it up more."

Potter was beside himself with fury. His cheeks, already pink with embarrassment were flaming red, and splotches of color were breaking out on his chin and forehead, too. Lily plowed on, determined that this would be their first and last Lily Lesson.

"Thirdly, you cannot call Lily by her surname and expect her to respond well. When talking to people you like, you should call them by their first names. You're totally obsessed with Lily, yet you never use her name. If obsession is worthy only of a surname, I can only imagine what you're doing in your dormitory with the only three people you are on a first name basis with."

Well, that did it. Potter's wand was out so fast, it was only a blur of color. Lily had expected this, however, and already had her wand in hand. She was glad she and Garry had kept their own wands, because she doubted she would have stood a chance against Potter with someone else's. Not that she really stood a chance anyway. One Shield Charm and a Trip Jinx later, Lily was sprawled on the ground. Potter, rather maliciously she thought, sent a Stunner straight at her forehead. The last thing she remembered was seeing a red light racing towards her.

James stomped off, not the least bit sorry that he'd attacked Meade while he was down. The pompous little bugger deserved it! That crack about the nature of the Marauder's relationship was way out of line. And it just wasn't true that he was only on a first name basis with three people. He called everyone on the Gryffindor Quidditch team by their first names. It wasn't that he didn't like Evans. He just didn't know her well enough to call her Lily.

"Oy, Prongs! Don't you have some eggs to find mate?" Sirius asked, pointing to the large blue egg cradled in the crook of his arm.

"We already found all of ours," James snapped.

Sirius unceremoniously dropped his egg. The hollow metal thudded dully against the underbrush.

"What's up?"

James kicked a large rock in his path and watched it until it stopped rolling several feet away.

"Meade's being an ass."

"Yeah. What's new?"

"No, I mean worse than ever. It's like … like he's harboring Evans's spirit or something. I mean, nobody—_nobody_—talks to me like that and gets away with it."

"You didn't let him, did you?"

"Well, no, but—"

"Then I don't see the problem, mate. He's a jealous prig, so ignore him. You're ten times the man he is, and a better wizard to boot."

James looked up at his best friend to thank him, but instead of focusing on Sirius, he watched Meadowes over his shoulder. She had approached the discarded egg with an indignant expression, but while listening to Sirius talk, a change had come over her face. For a brief moment, she didn't look disgusted by the sight of him. James could see how Sirius thought she was the prettiest girl in school. That is, until she noticed him watching her.

Perfect. Dorcas nearly grinned evilly. She had been waiting for an unobtrusive moment to goad Potter into harassing Lily.

"Don't you have some … _lessons_ to attend, Potter?"

The color rose in Potter's cheeks again. "Meade told you about that?"

Dorcas only grinned manically. Oh, this was fun! She was torturing Potter and paying back Lily at the same time!

"Well," he huffed, "considering that Meade is out cold, I think the lessons are over permanently."

Dorcas's eyebrows rose. "Well, I'll make sure to tell Lily you've give up on her."

Potter gapped and stuttered an incoherent rebuttal. Perfect! Absolutely perfect!

"Now if you'll excuse us, we've got work to do. There's already one distraction lingering around, and anymore than that might cause your best mate's brain to explode."

"Sprout changed groups yesterday," Sirius replied to James's quizzical look once Meadowes stomped off. "Piper dragged Tallulah Parkinson over towards our lovely new group of three."

A few minutes later, Sirius ambled back over to where Remus was working. Now that they weren't going to get the prize for finding their eggs first, no one was particularly interested in looking. Three days of nonstop work, plus three long nights of homework had made everyone irritable and fatigued. Crawling under bushes and through dugbog lairs to look for Easter eggs wasn't as much fun at sixteen as it was at six.

Dorcas sat a ways off from Black and Remus working furiously on her Diviniation homework. She had finished her Astronomy, Charms, and Transfiguration already. Divination and Arithmancy were her favorite classes, so she had saved them for last. She was scribbling away with the hope that tonight she could actually get a full night's sleep.

Just as she finished the paragraph about interpreting bird entrails (and why she refused to actually do it: it was unethical to kill a bird for the purpose of fortune-telling when tea leaves worked just as well) when her least favorite person swaggered into their make-shift camp. Piper giggled as she sat down next to Black. Some ways off, Tallulah was scowling at their group.

The entire Meadowes clan was considered blood-traitors because they embraced the Muggles and Squibs in their was a half-blood, and no better than dirt in Tallulah's eyes. Black and Tallulah had never gotten along. Dorcas remembered Tallulah throwing her Mary Jane at Black's head on their first ride aboard the Hogwarts Express.

"Have a seat, Tallulah," Dorcas said. "They'll be flirting and snogging for hours."

Reluctantly, the Slytherin sat gingerly on a stump several yards from Dorcas. She stole sideways glances at the Hufflepuff prefect, but said nothing for several minutes. While they sat in stony silence, Piper began her usual method of giggling, batting her eyelashes, and exposing her cleavage.

"Slag," muttered Tallulah.

"I think we finally have something in common," Dorcas responded.

For a moment, the girls shared a smile before remembering they were not supposed to like each other. Tallulah looked away first. Watching the flirt fest seemed to make her want to gag, however.

"Merlin, this is as bad as watching Snape and Dorthea make bedroom eyes over a boiling cauldron."

"Yuck! I did _not_ need to think about that!"

"Yeah, well, I've been seeing it for three days," she whined. "It's worse than all these bugs and dirt combined! It's like they're falling for each other because there's no one else for them. I mean, imagine waking up to Snape's greasy hair or Dorthea's beaver teeth every morning!"

Dorcas didn't like where this conversation was going. She did not approve of gossiping, especially not if it was for the sole purpose of making fun of someone. Snape was a little berk, and although Dorthea was no beauty queen, was the nicest Slytherin currently at Hogwarts.

"I would say the same thing about your little Mudblood friend Annabel—" Dorcas sat up ramrod straight, ready to hex or punch Tallulah, whichever would be more effective. "—but she's been in love with Pettigrew since the first time she saw him, even if she won't admit it."

That sounded like total bullocks to Dorcas, but it wasn't worth fighting over. The Mudblood comment, though, she would pay for.

"Your other little friend too, Evans, has it bad for James Potter. Not that he'll have her in the end. James is too good-looking and rich to settle for a Mudblood, even if their personalities are perfect for each other."

Once again, Dorcas opened her mouth. She was so stunned that anyone could think Lily liked Potter that no words came out for a moment. It was enough time for Tallulah to finish her little relationship rant.

"And then there's those two," she jerked her head in Piper and Black's direction, "who are only interested in sex. It's like all the pathetic people in the school are drawn to each other like magnets."

But Dorcas wasn't listening anymore. Piper had now moved on to her favorite activity, which also happened to be the most annoying of all her irksome habits. She was making baby-talk like she was a two-year-old.

"You are so cute, Siri-poo," she purred.

Black grimaced slightly at the name, Remus choked on his laughter, and Tallulah looked disgusted. There was nothing worse in the entire world than a brainless leech calling Black by those ridiculous names.

"His name," began Dorcas, picking up her bag, "is not Siri-poo. Nor is it Siri-kins. Or Siri. His name is Sirius. Sirius Black. Since you insist on annoying us all with your babble, I suggest you wear the proper outfit."

With a wave of her wand, Dorcas conjured a bib and a bottle. She tossed the items at Piper before marching towards the main camp. Howls of laughter and shrieks of rage followed her.


	7. Jaques

**Of Amortentia & Polyjuice Potion**

**Chapter Seven**

"**Jaques"**

Sunday lessons went surprisingly well before lunch. Although Severus found an Easter Egg Hunt childish and dull, the morning was Tallulah-free. Since Sprout had changed groups, he and Dorthea were free to lounge around all morning verbally abusing the professors for coming up with such a juvenile activity and their classmates for participating. Of course, Severus had figured out the clue at once. A Summoning Charm with three words: _Accio Green Eggs_. It was so simple, it was almost funny. Almost.

Lake Arden was relatively free from distractions, except for Knight and Pettigrew showing up once to claim their white egg. They were disgusting: ogling at each other and blushing instead of figuring out the clue even a flobberworm could have solved. Otherwise, the area was deserted for most of the morning.

Lunch, however, had brought Tallulah back into their group, however briefly. Once again, she moaned about the bugs, the dirt, the trees, the air, the clouds, the frost, the assignment, and, of course, the food. She whined loudly about never having consumed anything a house-elf had not prepared. Severus longed to roll his eyes and explain that it tasted the same whether an elf or a Muggle cooked it. But, of course, that kind of talk was not allowed in Slytherin House.

The professors had given the students an extra treat. They had made the noon meal themselves. Instead of burnt sandwiches and globular mashed potatoes, there was a veritable feast sitting on all the picnic tables. Madam Pomfrey was wiping her hands on her apron and surveying the students' faces apprehensively.

"It's no Welcoming Feast, but it's the best we can do out here," she explained breathlessly.

There was steak-and-kidney pie, kippers, green beans, yams, boiled potatoes, and for desert, plump meat pies, cake, and even a block of ice cream. Severus strongly suspected that Professor Sprout and Madam Pomfrey had gone to all this trouble for one reason and one reason only: the afternoon lesson would be murder.

He was right.

"Here are this afternoon's assignments."

Dorthea and Severus exchanged dark looks. So, the Egg Hunt hadn't really been a treat at all. It was a brief distraction because there was even more work to do in the afternoon.

"As you know," Sprout continued, while the students unrolled the instructions. She resolutely ignored their panicked expressions as they examined the three pieces of parchment. "Herbologists have been using Arden for centuries to study numerous magical plants. What you are going to do today is gather seeds from every plant studied here that is not native to Britain. Just follow that list and you'll not have any problems."

That didn't sound too bad to Severus. He would never admit it to anyone, but he had helped his mum plant tons of things in her garden, mostly vegetables, but some flowers and basic potions ingredients too.

"Also, as you're gathering seeds, collect the parts of each plant that is viable for the potion you will be brewing this evening—" There was a collective groan from the students as they realized their morning had been wasted on an Easter Egg Hunt when they could have been collecting ingredients. "—which is Amortentia."

Sudden silence fell over the camp. Behind Professor Sprout, Slughorn was looking positively giddy. Amortentia wasn't even in the Hogwarts curriculum. In fact, it was a strictly forbidden potion. With a flourish, Slughorn produced a handful of scrolls that he passed out to the students.

Snape unrolled the parchment greedily. He didn't like the idea of a _love potion_, but the mere notion of brewing a brand new and supposedly complicated concoction that was illegal at Hogwarts was making his hands shake with anticipation.

_I, Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, do hereby grant permission for Mister Severus Snape to brew one cauldron full of __Amortentia__ under the direction of Professors Horace Slughorn and Pomona Sprout._

"Had to pull a few strings, I did," Slughorn said, puffing out his chest.

The other students were examining their parchment. It appeared that Dumbledore had addressed one letter to each student giving them personal permission to brew a Love Potion.

"Oh," said Sprout, turning back to the students and cutting across Slughorn's boast. "Mind you do it well, because the assignment tomorrow will depend on how well you transport the plants and seeds."

She paused for a long moment, looking as if she wasn't sure she wanted to say the next part of the instructions. She glanced at Slughorn who nodded once. "Part of the requirements for Field Study programs is that your problem-solving skills and wit are tested as well as knowledge and procedure. Therefore, like this morning's Egg Hunt, you need to use only one spell for this assignment. Anyone caught cheating will receive a T," she rushed.

Eleven pairs of eyes glared at her murderously. It was already nearly one o'clock. A Digging Charm was fine for tearing up massive amounts of earth to reach subterranean seeds, but it would sever plant roots in a millisecond. With more subtle spells, however, it would take hours to excavate the deeply buried Venemous Tentacula seeds.

"Severus?" Dorthea asked. "Any ideas?"

"I think so," he replied, standing up.

Severus led the way into the forest apart from the other groups. Those irksome Marauders had converged and were hastily discussing the best spells to use, no doubt. Pettigrew and Knight looked, once again, petrified.

What a bunch of dunderheads, Severus thought, this was by far the easiest assignment yet. Well, for those students with brains—and by that he meant intellectual capacity, which did not include copying information from a book, turning it in, and receiving an O. The "top students" in the school could do little more than regurgitate their textbooks. Unlike himself, they had never created spells and perfected potions.

"We'll start here with the Fanged Geraniums, as they will be the hardest to collect," he announced.

Dorthea dutifully pulled on her dragon hide gloves and drew out her wand. She waited expectantly for Severus to give her directions. He waved his wand in a complicated motion and two trowels appeared from thin air.

"One spell," he explained, pushing the gardening tool at Dorthea.

She eyed it skeptically, no doubt having never done any manual labor in her life. Finally, she seized the handle and resolutely drove it into the dirt. The power in her large arm wasn't all that surprising. In moments, she had unearthed the Geranium and was cleaning off the roots.

When Severus was a small child, his mother used to keep him out in garden all day. It was his duty to brush the dirt off the vegetables and check the flowers for insects. He hated being outdoors, preferring his dark bedroom and books, but his mother had insisted that sunlight was good for him.

Severus had endured the heat and light for one reason: he loved listening to his mother reminisce about Hogwarts. She would talk about the Bloody Baron, moving staircases, talking portraits, Peeves the Poltergeist, Potions, and jolly Professor Slughorn. She would always promise to play fun games with him when they were done for the day, like Gobstones. But they never would. His father would come home from work just about the time they came in from the garden. And when Tobias Snape was around, no one had any fun.

Severus almost felt guilty for coming to Hogwarts and leaving her alone with his father. Alone with only her vegetables to listen while she relived her youth.

With each thrust of the trowel into the dirt, Severus's lip curled. This monotonous task was not to his liking mainly because it was far too easy. He was enduring it by keeping in mind the new potion he would get to experiment with soon and imagining each dirt clump and rock flung over his shoulder as his nemesis.

There went Potter, impaled on his own broomstick … And Black, mauled by a hippogriff while Professor Kettleburn laughed … Lupin hunted down by an angry mob with pitchforks … Potter enduring Severus's newly perfected _Sectumspemra_ spell … Pettigrew torn limb from limb by a powerful Reductor Curse … Black permanently deformed by undiluted bubotuber pus …

A twig snapping under careless footfalls broke Severus out of his reverie. He was mildly surprised to see that he had dug such a deep pit that the hidden Venemous Tentacula seeds were exposed already. He looked up from his work to see Pettigrew and Knight crouching over a clump of Norwegian greenspar.

Automatically, Severus whipped out his wand and glanced around for any sign of Potter and Black. Where they went, Pettigrew was sure to follow. It seemed, however, that he and his new girlfriend had wandered off from the group. So, Pettigrew was unprotected except by the Mudblood whose skill with a wand was mediocre at best.

Severus rose to his feet cautiously. Dorthea looked up inquisitively, but when she spotted Pettigrew and Knight, she dropped the handful of enormous Flutterby seeds. She wasn't a typical girl willing to sit back and cackle while others were in the thick of dueling. Dorthea loved jinxing Mudbloods as much as the next respectable Slytherin pureblood.

For his part, Severus was thinking about the eager, hungry look in Pettigrew's eyes every time his arrogant friends picked on someone. It was always two against one with Potter and Black. They never had the nerve to fight fairly. And pathetic Peter Pettigrew hanging behind, clapping and cheering for someone else's misery.

"What do we have here?" Severus jeered.

Pettigrew and Knight jumped up. As usual, it took Pettigrew a moment longer than his friend to understand what was happening. Knight's wand was out in a flash, like she stood a chance against Dorthea. The pitiful boy fumbled for his wand. In the amount of time it took him to pull a stick of wood out of his pocket, Severus could have turned him into a flobberworm and fed him to a fire crab. But he did not strike. Revenge would be so much sweeter if Pettigrew was prepared for what was about to hit him.

"Looks like you're all alone, Pettigrew. No friends to protect you this time."

"J-James will get you back if you hurt me!"

From the corner of his eye, Severus saw Knight cast him an exasperated look. So, even Pettigrew's filthy girlfriend thought he was pathetic. He would remember that for a time words would do more harm than a wand.

"I'll take that chance."

Severus and Dorthea pounced at the same time. He had no idea what hex she used on Knight, but the blonde girl was knocked off her feet yet managed to cast a spell that sent Dorthea flying.

"_Levicorpus!_" thought Severus.

Unfortunately, his wand was not pointing high enough. While Pettigrew flipped over in midair, the back of his head collided with a large granite rock protruding from the earth and he was knocked unconscious. Severus lifted the spell and let the boy fall unceremoniously to the ground.

Dorthea had recovered and jinxed Knight again. The Mudblood tagalong had enough sense to stay down and pretend to be knocked out, even though it was clear by the erratic rise and fall of her chest that she was not. Dorthea chose to ignore that, maybe because she herself was suffering from injuries or she felt it too dishonorable to finish off such a cowardly opponent.

With a shrug, they went back to their respective tasks. A few hours out cold in the woods could do Pettigrew some good. Maybe wild animals would gnaw off his fingers and he wouldn't be able to do his homework anymore so he'd have to leave school.

* * *

Annabel lay on the ground trying to regulate her breathing while Snape and Bulstrode stood over them, presumably leering evilly. She knew Lily and Dorcas would never "play opossum" like this, but Dorthea Bulstrode was a formidable girl.

She crawled over to Peter, all too aware of the throbbing pain in her ankle. It was most likely sprained. That was just what she needed: a sprained ankle, an unconscious Peter, and a half-completed homework assignment. Today was really wonderful. Peter was breathing steadily, totally unaware that he would have a massive headache when he woke up.

Annabel knew she had to get back to the camp and Madam Pomfrey. Their hurts could be mended in about a second by the nurse. Dorcas knew some good Healing Charms, but Annabel had never gotten the hang of those kinds of things. When she stood up, however, her left leg crumpled beneath her. She cursed violently, wishing she had hit Dorthea with Dorcas's infamous Boxing Hex instead of a Disarming Charm.

"Well, Pete, I guess we're here for awhile," she said to the unconscious boy.

She leaned against a tree trunk and sighed. If Lily were in her position, she would conjure an owl from thin air and send a letter to Madam Pomfrey. Annabel doubted if she could create so much as a hummingbird. Transfiguration wasn't really her thing.

Dorcas wasn't great at it either, so Annabel had never worried too much about it. But Dorcas would have come up with some other way to help herself out this situation. She was so good at Healing Charms that Madam Pomfrey had had no qualms about letting her mend Elijah Diggory when a Bludger had jammed his fingers. Dorcas would have repaired her own ankle and skipped back to camp whistling.

What could Annabel do though? She wasn't Lily or Dorcas. Lately, she was even wondering why in the world she had taken the NEWT courses to become an Auror. It was ludicrous thinking that she, a horribly average witch, could be a Dark wizard catcher. She would probably be better suited in some boring Ministry job.

Professor Sprout was right. During career counseling in fifth-year, her Head of House had suggested that Annabel pursue the career she thought she _could_ do instead of the career she thought she _should_ do.

Annabel had a sudden desire to talk to Peter. He had made her feel so much better about herself last night. Even with a splitting headache he could probably cheer her up a bit. She pointed her wand at him and muttered, "_Enervate!_"

Peter snapped awake immediately. He groaned and touched the back of his head gingerly. Annabel hurried to explain the situation to him.

"Give me a moment, then I'll help you back to camp."

Annabel's upper lip curled slightly. That's not what she had expected to hear. "Well, there's nothing we can do" was more along the appropriate lines.

* * *

Severus and Dorthea worked until the sun descended below the tree canopy and painted the forest orange. They still had a potion to brew. Presumably, they were doing this instead of having lectures, but Severus wasn't about to hold his breath on that. More likely, they were doing potions instead of having free time after the lectures.

It turned out he was correct. Professor Slughorn explained in a not-so-delicate manner that, had they been thinking, they would have collected their Easter Eggs in less than a minute and had all morning to do homework.

"That's not fair, Professor," Garry Meade burst out. "We weren't told we wouldn't have time to finish up our homework this evening. We've only got one more day to do it."

"You shouldn't have procrastinated, Mr. Meade," Slughorn responded. "Now, dinner has been prepared by your classmates, so let's tuck in before we begin the Amortentia lesson, shall we?"

Pettigrew and Knight stumbled into camp when dinner was nearly over. Madam Pomfrey made a huge fuss about getting them into the pup tent where all the medical supplies were stocked. The tent flap swayed continually as she bustled in and out. First to fetch water, then to get them some pumpkin juice, then to shoo away the Marauders, and finally to summon Meadowes.

Severus was beside himself with indignant rage. Three jinxes and the Apocalypse had come to the forest of Arden. It was Pettigrew and Knight for Merlin's sake! They were not worth all this trouble. Dorthea rolled her eyes once and turned back to her burnt soup.

"I don't see why anyone is fussing over some injuries," Tallulah announced. "We should be worried about this food killing us. Honestly, Robins, do you have anything besides hormones inside that skull of yours? It's soup. How can it be burned?"

"Maybe it wouldn't have been burned, Parkinson, if you had been watching it instead of shrieking about a midge that landed on your sleeve," Piper snarled.

Most of the students were out of favor with their partners. Tallulah and Piper were both outraged that their groups had been changed. Lily and James were resolutely ignoring one another after the row that afternoon. When they sat down for dinner, Annabel refused to speak to Peter. Only Dorcas, Remus, and Sirius seemed on good terms.

"Dorcas and Sirius are being friendly when no one else is?" Remus quipped. "Maybe the Cannons will win the Cup this year after all."

Slughorn refused to accept in-fighting as an excuse to not brew Amortentia. He attempted to make a few lame jokes about brewing love potions while they were angry with each other, but most of the students were so out of temper that they glared at him. That was highly unusual for these students, most of whom were in the Slug Club, and not knowing how to take their reactions, Slughorn retreated to a picnic table and began grading essays.

"Stir three times counterclockwise," Dorcas read. She leaned over the cauldron and sniffed. "_Why_ does that smell like wet dog?"

"It doesn't," Black said, rotating his wand slowly. "But it does smell like soap and strawberries."

"It smells like whatever you love the most," Remus explained, flipping a page of the textbook.

Black seemed to accept this statement as true, but Dorcas stared at him curiously. "I love the moldy, putrid smell of wet dog?"

"Apparently," Remus replied with a smirk. He shared a knowing look with Black over the top of the textbook.

"What?" Dorcas demanded.

Remus opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, Black spoke up. "Nothing. He's causing trouble."

"What was that about, mate?" Remus wondered, after Dorcas had gone to see how Annabel was feeling.

"We have a truce, all right? If I break the truce by upsetting her she gets to hex me and I can't find back." He ignored his friend's laughter. "And more importantly, we shouldn't be talking about why I smell like wet dog with unfriendly ears around."

He glanced pointedly in the Slytherin's direction. Remus shrugged, not buying Sirius's argument. The Marauders were fairly certain that Dorcas knew about Sirius, James, and Peter being Animagi, not that she'd ever breathed a word about it. In fact, she hadn't even mentioned it in passing to Remus, which is something that all four Marauders had expected her to do. Remus thought Sirius just didn't want to antagonize her. Amortentia smelled like wet dog to her, and he was sure that that in itself would fortify Sirius's resolve. Dorcas didn't have to admit it out loud for Sirius to assume that she had already drawn the connection.

Much later that night, after brewing a potion and sitting through two lectures, the students trudged off to bed. Pettigrew was whispering conspiratorially with Potter, not that Severus cared all that much. It wasn't as if Potter and Black needed a reason to hex him. He had more important matters on his mind.

The Love Potion had turned out to be a total crock. It wasn't interesting or complex to brew, and it caused even the most level-headed girl to break into peals of laughter. All around the campsite, normally sophisticated young ladies were giggling, batting their eyelashes, and fussing with their hair. It was disgusting.

What was more, Dorthea had joined in with them. She kept prattling on about how the potion smelled like fresh baked bread, cooking oil, and eye of newt. Severus had been utterly humiliated by her simpering attitude and the demeaning simplicity of the potion. All it needed was some water, powdered unicorn horn, griffin claw, essence of murtlap, and ashwinder eggs. To top it all off, his potion looked exactly the way _Advanced Potion Making_ said it should. Which meant, of course, that the potion was completely mediocre.

Love potions were dumb, Severus had decided. And what was all this hullabaloo about different smells? The pink liquid smelled like ashwinder eggs to him. Big surprise there, considering it was the chief ingredient.

So that was it. Severus was in love with Ashwinders.


	8. Love Lessons

**Of Amortentia & Polyjuice Potion**

**Chapter Eight**

"**Love Lessons"**

On Monday morning, the good luck of the Field Study failed. The previous four days had been cold and sunny, but still decent conditions for spending all day outdoors. When Lily woke up, however, she found the clouds steely gray and a light drizzle floated from the overcast sky. The ground around the campsite was slippery and muddy, and the group preparing breakfast was having a difficult time keeping the fire going.

Dorcas would light the fire, and by the time she put the skillet of bacon over the flames, it had dwindled so low that nothing would cook. Remus and Black were helping when they could, but there was also eggs and coffee to prepare.

Lily sat down on one of the logs serving as benches without food or drink and wrapped herself tighter in Garry's heavy cloak. The persistent drizzle seeped in through the wool, weighing down the cloth and slowly soaking Lily to the bone. The other students were grumbling to one another, but no one offered a helping hand to Dorcas, Remus, and Black, who were getting more aggravated the longer it took to cook breakfast.

Finally, Dorcas waved her wand in a complicated pattern and many bowls of dry cornflakes appeared from thin air. Magically transfigured food usually tasted like cardboard, and since cornflakes always tasted like cardboard, there were groans all around. Black stared down the whining students as if daring them to challenge Dorcas's solution. Regretfully, they began crunching on the hard cereal.

Slughorn emerged from the boys' tent ten minutes later. He surveyed the overcast and misty sky with the air of a man examining a mediocre meal. But when he saw the tea kettle lying on its side, his indifferent face turned sorrowful. He probably hadn't missed his morning cup of tea in decades.

"Good morning," Professor Sprout began, not at all dejected by the lack of good breakfast. "As you know, today is the last day of your Field Study. We Herbologists have a tradition that you all will be fulfilling today. Every witch or wizard who learns here in Arden gives something back to the forest so that it will continue to accept us into its wood—it's a bit superstitious, but centuries ago wizards did not take without giving something back. And neither shall you.

"There is a garden in the very center of Arden where Herbologists tend the native plants of the Forbidden Forest and keep their habitat separated from the plants transported here for study. One miniscule seed of a foreign plant dropped inside the garden and you irrevocably alter the only natural environment for British plants in all of Arden! So mind yourselves!"

"Garden" wasn't exactly an appropriate word for the place Professor Sprout led them to. It was more of a miniature ecosystem. Lily remembered creating a self-sustaining habitat in her Muggle primary school. The so-called garden—or Garden, as Lily thought of it—was a magnified version of that.

Every plant and animal native to Britain thrived inside a space five Quidditch pitches long. It seemed like a sort of invisible greenhouse or massive Bubble Head Charm surrounded the plants. The drizzling rain dripped through the barriers, but piles of leaves from the ancient trees overlooking the Garden hung in midair and imported animals scurried along a nonexistent roof without any fear of the two hundred foot drop to the ground.

The professors and Madam Pomfrey led the way inside. Lily's shoulder brushed against a sort of doorframe made of some semi-solid material. Around the Garden stood posts the size of picket fences displaying the names of various plants: Snargaluff Stumps, Dittany, Bubotubers, Devil's Snare, Mandrakes, and many more.

"Each group will choose one section to tend today. All you need do is degnome, weed, repot the dying plants, and prune those plants that require it. Keep to the north and east sides of the garden, please, as the south and west have been looked after not too long ago. Oh, and keep a sharp eye for imps and jarveys and the like."

Potter led the way towards the farthest corner of the Garden. Lily could see Devil's Snare swaying ominously in the distance, and she sincerely hoped he wasn't headed in that direction. Not that she would stop him. She would never admit to Potter that a plant scared her.

"No one is likely to pick Devil's Snare," Potter remarked. Lily tried not to groan or roll her eyes. "And it's a good space away from any of the other plants, so we'll be able to continue these—er, lessons—about Evans, right?"

Lily's jaw dropped. She couldn't help it. After the fiasco yesterday, the bothersome little blighter still wanted to push on? Unbelievable. Only James Potter. But somewhere in the back of Lily's mind, in a place she refused to openly acknowledge, she wondered how sincere he must be about her to continue receiving advice from Garry Meade after suffering a torrent of insults.

"Er—well, yeah, I guess."

"You do know more about her, don't you?" he demanded, turning around. "I didn't put the secrets of my Quidditch team on the line just to get insulted, did I?"

He was fingering his wand threateningly, and although Lily wasn't remotely afraid of Potter even after he'd hexed her into unconsciousness the previous day. He wouldn't really hurt anyone, Lily thought. Sure, he'd put some people into the hospital wing, but only after they had fought back. Not that that was _moral_ logic or anything! Still, it's not like he went around using _Diffindo_ on anyone's throat.

Lily shook her head to clear these contradictory thoughts. Since when did she defend Potter … especially inside her own head? He was a toerag. And not worthy of defending … right? She needed to talk to someone. Instinctively she looked around for Dorcas, but remembered that her best friend wasn't open to hearing her whine about Potter.

"Well?"

"Wha—? Oh, yeah, I know tons about Lily."

"Good."

They got started with the Devil's Snare right away only because Professor Sprout was watching them. Actually, she was beaming. Not many students would have marched straight towards the most dangerous plant in the Garden. No doubt Potter and Meade were now her favorite students.

Potter stood back and Stunned the waving tentacles of Devil's Snare that threatened to strangle Lily while she pruned the enormous plants. Without wizards constantly taking cuttings for potions, the Devil's Snare in Arden had grown to mammoth size. In fact, some of the vines were curling around invisible rafters two hundred feet in the air.

"So tell me something useful," Potter said, when Lily stepped back for a breather.

"Excuse me?"

"Tell me something that will make Evans like me. Like—what's her favorite color?"

Lily rolled her eyes. She couldn't help herself. "Her favorite color? This will help you how?"

"You know, I can get her something in her favorite color."

"Merlin's beard, you have a lot to learn," she laughed. The idea of James Potter being so in adept at anything was hilarious. "Girls don't work that way, contrary to what you might read in _Witch Weekly_. If you buy her something red, she'll either think that's the only color it comes in or you got lucky. Neither is exactly romantic."

Potter looked put out for a moment, but rebounded quickly. How could he not with an ego that size?

"Come to think of it, buying her things never got me anywhere."

"Of course not! Cauldron cakes and licorice wands for Christmas are hardly extraordinary. She could have bought those anywhere herself for less than a Galleon."

"How do you know what I got Evans for Christmas?"

"And besides, Lily doesn't like licorice wands so half of your substandard present went to Annabel."

Potter was looking really suspicious now. Garry never paid attention to Annabel and certainly wouldn't know details about Lily's Christmas presents. Lily realized too late that she'd revealed a bit too much. Sometimes she forgot that Potter was top student in their year.

"Look, Lily loves being at Hogwarts, but she's more than just a witch."

He looked like he was trying very hard to make the connection. "Cauldron cakes aren't magical candy, though."

Lily couldn't seem to help herself. She knew she should either keep her mouth shut and prune the Devil's Snare or antagonize Potter, but something spurred her on. Before she realized exactly what she was doing, the words were pouring out of her mouth and revealing her innermost secrets.

"Yes, they are! Sure, they don't have magical properties like Fizzing Wizbees, but they're a reminder of the magical world."

"So, what you're saying is … when Evans stays at Hogwarts over Christmas she's missing the Muggle world and I shouldn't have given her cauldron cakes?"

"Close enough."

"She misses the Muggle world," Potter repeated, amazed.

"Well, she is Muggle-born."

"Are you telling me I can impress Evan with Muggle candy?"

"Could have. Past tense. You'll have to think of something better on your own now."

"Why?"

"Obviously she'll know someone gave you the idea."

Potter's eyes narrowed. Lily could have sworn she heard him mutter "git" under his breath before diving into the Devil's Snare.

* * *

This had to be the most pointless assignment ever. Dorcas threw her trowel into the dirt where it stood straight up. Unfortunately, it hit a Mandrake in the head and it passed out.

"Easy, Meadowes," Black said, lifting the gardening tool. "You don't want to kill a second one."

Dorcas gave a dry laugh. "You mean a third. The first Mandrake choked on a rock in our second year. During OWLs, I decapitated the second Mandrake."

"How'd you do that?" Remus inquired, taking off his earmuffs. His group mates had long ceased to actually work, so he took a break too.

"I was holding it too far to the left and Annabel's Welsh Man-Trap bit its head off."

Both young men cringed at the thought. Dorcas looked too sullen for them to tease her about it, however. At least, Remus sent Sirius a glare that prompted him to shut his mouth.

"Why'd we have to choose Mandrakes? You know, Professor Sprout's hair is probably turning gray just thinking about me anywhere near these plants."

"The key is to think of it like a baby," Black advised. "You have a little sister, right? Pretend it's her you're repotting."

Dorcas burst out laughing. She was imagining Calliope's head sticking out of a pot of dirt. Darius, her younger brother, had once stuck Calliope in the garbage can. Millie, the Meadowes's house-elf, had nearly gone into cardiac arrest when she saw the infant wallowing in refuse.

She snapped her earmuffs over her ears again and prepared to sink her hands into the dirt as Black cast a renewed Imperturbable Charm around the Mandrake patch. It was tricky bit of magic without walls, and Dorcas had to admit, she was impressed by his skill. When she had tired to do it, the Slytherins had been knocked unconscious by the crying Mandrake. Black had thought it was Dorcas's idea of joke and laughed raucously, and Remus refrained from mentioning it.

Several yards away, Professor Slughorn stepped gingerly over the legs of Snape and Bulstrode. He had been helping Robins and Parkinson with a particularly spirited Snargaluff stump when they had keeled over. Pomona insisted that the Mandrakes were too young to permanently hurt them, but Poppy had moved them off to the side and made them comfortable.

"Miss Knight, Mr. Pettigrew," Slughorn called, "Professor Sprout informs me that the two of you should get going on lunch. You'll have quite a time of it in this weather."

Annabel and Peter looked up at the ceiling. All morning they had endured great droplets of rain falling on the backs of the necks. The mist that had hung in the air all morning had turned into a veritable deluge of rain. They had been protected by the invisible walls of the Garden, but now it was time to trudge back to camp and make lunch.

"I'll bet they won't put up with another Transfigured meal," Annabel said darkly.

She and Peter wrapped their cloaks tighter around themselves and moved around into the open air. The tree canopy protected them somewhat from the storm, but not totally. After ten minutes of walking with bent heads, Peter gave up completely.

"We're already soaked to the bone," he shrugged.

At the camp site, they looked around helplessly. Once again, Annabel was chagrined by the fact that Dorcas and Lily could have come up with _something_. Dorcas's solution that morning hadn't been brilliant, but it had, at least, put food in their bellies.

"I am never camping again!" Annabel shrieked and threw herself down on the picnic table.

Peter looked frightened. He blinked through the rivers of water trailing down his face and pushed aside the hair matting to his forehead.

"Anna," he began tentatively, "you're good at these kinds of things. You can think on your feet really well."

The girl looked up, slightly mollified by his praise. "Well … I might have one idea."

When Annabel and Peter returned to the Garden, everyone greeted them heartily. Maybe it was the steam wafting from the clam chowder or the smell of melted cheese on the hot ham sandwiches.

"Anna, you're amazing!" Dorcas cried, throwing her arms around her friend's neck.

Annabel and Peter levitated the trays over the table Professor Sprout had cleared of empty pots and spare pruning sheers. Feeling confident now, Annabel waved her wand and a crisp yellow tablecloth covered the dirty surface. Another wave produced fourteen sets of utensils and soup bowls.

Everyone except Peter seemed taken aback by the uncharacteristic display of magical talent. Usually, Annabel huddled in the back corner trying to blend in and avoid being called on. If Professor McGonagall could have seen this bit of Transfiguration, she would have said it was Annabel's best work ever.

But Peter wasn't surprised. After watching Annabel conjure an invisible barrier over the fire (much like the walls of the Garden) and start a roaring fire, he was certain that she could do anything. Except Arithmancy, which he was happy to help her with.

After lunch, the students grudgingly went back to their respective areas of the Garden. The professors let them sit for an additional fifteen minutes to finish off extra sandwiches and sip pumpkin juice, but eventually Professor Sprout had ushered them back to work.

Potter and Lily had much less work to do than most other groups, because gnomes would be mental to burrow anywhere near Devil's Snare and no one collected cuttings of the deadly plant, but the plants were so large and dangerous that they were toiling just as hard as their classmates.

"I want to know how to make Evans like me," Potter stated bluntly.

Lily's eyebrows disappeared into her hairline. She just stared at him. Nervously, she lifted the flask of Polyjuice Potion to her lips and drank a mouthful.

"Actually, Potter, now that you come to the crux of the matter, I don't think it's possible. Nope. Lily will never love you."

Potter crossed his arms. Clearly, his ego was too large to accept rejection as a possibility. "I thought you knew her, Meade."

"I do, and I'm telling you, she doesn't even like you. You might as well slip her a love potion and accept that she'll never really love you."

Potter's cheeks turned pink. "I would never stoop that low, Meade," he growled, pulling out his wand. "Besides, I never said _love_."

Lily stumbled backwards, caught off guard by his aggressive response. "W-what did the Amortentia smell like to you then, if not Lily's perfume?"

"Not that it's your business, but broomstick polish, peach cobbler, and raspberries."

Lily's stomach did a back flip. _Raspberries?_ But—but her shampoo smelled like raspberries!

"You'll be lucky if you can make friends with her," she replied, trying to keep her voice steady.

"Things can change with the right … persuasion." The look on Potter's face was unlike anything she'd seen before. She couldn't read it all. He might have been determined or maniacal or affectionate and she wouldn't have been able to tell.

Flustered, Lily asked, "Why do you like her so much anyway?"

Now he looked dreamy—or ill—she couldn't quite work out if his droopy eyelids made him look near the point of fainting or exceedingly happy.

"Evans … she's just … perfect." Lily shifted irritably. This was not good … for Potter. "I mean, you know her, Meade. She's passionate about everything! If I hex a first-year, she's right there breathing fire and screaming her lungs out. Merlin, I love it when she yells. Her cheeks get all splotchy and she pulls out her wand."

Lily released the struggling vine and stared at Potter, horrified. What in the world! He liked it when she yelled? And what did he mean, splotchy? She touched her cheek intuitively, surprised to feel stubble on Garry's face.

"She's not afraid of me either! I can put my wand right in her face and she just pushes my hand away. She's totally fearless! But she's nice too. I don't mean "nice" as in, I-can't-think-of-any-better-compliment-so-I'll-say-nice, kind of way. I mean she's kind. The little first-years get lost, and Lily is there to help them. The Slytherins make fun of Muggle-borns, and she lifts her head up high without insulting their ugly faces."

Potter took a deep breath, but Lily couldn't have interjected if she'd wanted to.

"And she's loyal too. Meadowes has made her angry a lot, I know. She's a nice enough girl, Dorcas Meadowes, but she's a bit of a sycophant sometimes, yelling at me and Sirius. I know Evans hates that. But she doesn't ever talk bad about Meadowes."

This tirade shook Lily out of her stupor. Potter and Black knew that Dorcas annoyed her sometimes? How … _Why_ did they pick up on that? Not even Dorcas and Annabel could tell when she was irritated with them.

"Potter. Potter!" Lily cried, when he showed every intention of starting up again. "Passionate, courageous, kind, dignified, loyal, independent, original … no woman can live up to all those things. You're going to overwhelm Lily!"

"Wha—? Oh, I know she can't always be all of those things all the time. I mean, she's not very dignified or loyal when she takes points from her own House. But in general, I mean."

"And if you got to know her? And she was none of those things?"

Potter's brow furrowed for a moment. "Some people can lie about who they really are, you know? But I don't think Evans is one of those people. She's got too much spirit to bottle it all up. No one is totally like they appear to be—no, not even me—but some of those things are true. So if Evans is strong, but emotional too, well that's okay, because maybe I'm brave, but not …," he trailed off, perhaps thinking that he'd said too much.

Lily stared at him in silence. She could hardly believe her ears. The arrogant James Potter, admitting he wasn't the Gryffindor hero, that he had flaws and insecurities too. She would have never thought it possible to hear those words from his mouth.

She swallowed the lump in her throat. Potter seemed so much more human now. In ten minutes, he had gone from Potter the toerag to … well, _James_. Never once had she felt the urge to call him by his first name, like a friend, but she saw something in him—hidden deep down and covered by teenage bravado—but there nonetheless.

"You, uh, didn't mention anything about her being pretty," Lily hinted.

"Oh … well, yeah, that too," James answered.

He went back to Stunning Devil's Snare, leaving Lily to stare at the back of his head, completely dumbfounded.


	9. Return to Court

**Of Amortentia & Polyjuice Potion**

**Chapter Nine**

"**Return to Court"**

It was taking _for-ev-er_ to get moving. Piper was definitely not in the mood for this delay. She was hungry, tired, and grumpy. For the past two days she had to listen to Tallulah moan about dirt and bugs. Piper was no tomboy herself, but she, at least, had expected _dirt_ and _bugs _when signing up for a Field Study in the _forest_. Honestly.

The Professors were bustling about waving their wands at the tents, the camp fire, and their packs. Once the tents had folded themselves, the camp fire doused, and bags self-packed, Piper assumed they would be setting off for Hogwarts. She wanted nothing more than a long soak in a hot bath full of bubbles. Unfortunately, this was not to happen.

Her classmates continued to disappear one or two at a time. The professors were at a loss to explain this phenomenon, which made Piper roll her eyes dramatically. Obviously, they were rushing off into the forest to finish their homework for other classes. She knew for a fact that Dorcas Meadowes did not have her Arithmancy done, because Piper had seen her copying down Annabel Knight's answers.

Piper almost snorted with laughter. Copying off Annabel was like asking Peter Pettigrew to help with Transfiguration homework. Usually Dorcas was so _wholesome_. Just the thought of being a goody-two-shoes cookie-cutter prefect made her shudder. She might not be as clever as Dorcas, but at least Piper had something to offer her boyfriends. Elijah Diggory never looked deprived of affection when he and Dorcas were dating, but gossip in the bathroom was Little-Miss-Perfect was Little-Miss-Inexperienced.

Piper had tried to explain this to Sirius over and over again, but he just didn't want to hear it. Or worse, he looked genuinely impressed that a girl as beautiful as Dorcas was also … what was the word he used? … Oh, right, _selective_.

Well, Piper had shown him a thing or two that he hadn't objected to. Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. And Sirius Black had been ignoring her all weekend for that uptight, brown-nosing _Hufflepuff_. He should have known better. It was conventional wisdom that brawn and brains went together, i.e. Gryffindor and Ravenclaw. Who ever heard of brawn and _kindness_? Really.

While the professors were trying to round up students (was Slughorn really using a Summoning Charm, or just trying to be funny?) and her classmates were feverishly finishing their homework, Piper sat serenely by the ashes of the cooking fire. The flask in her hand was the standard issue hiking water bottle, but the contents were not so innocent.

When Sirius least expected it, Piper would show him who he really wanted. That bookworm Hufflepuff wasn't worthy, but she, Piper, was the kind of girl Sirius needed. If it took a bit of Amortentia to nudge him in her direction, well, Piper was willing to accept that. So what if Slughorn gave it a P? What did that tub of lard know anyway? He had proven how dim he was by never inviting Piper to his special little dinners. Her father was the most eligible bachelor in Britain. Incidentally, he was also the most divorced wizard in Europe. That had to count for something.

* * *

In the forest, four students were running pell-mell towards the camp. They hadn't waited until the very last minute to do their homework, but close enough to ensure they wouldn't be receiving any O's for their work.

For the first time in her life, Dorcas could actually say that she was having a good time with Sirius Black. He still wasn't her ideal study partner, but there was something exhilarating about crashing through the underbrush and leaping over stagnant puddles of rainwater with him at her side.

Dorcas was famous for her grace and poise. No one but Lily and Annabel had ever seen her stumble or slip, and she was living up her reputation. Even while racing through the dense wood, no one could keep up with her.

"I could take you at the full moon," James wheezed.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Dorcas yelled back, not concerned at all about her companion's physical troubles. She loved to run.

"Her … Patronus … is … a … gazelle," Remus huffed.

"Like I said," James grumbled, putting on a burst of speed. He came even with Dorcas, but only for a few minutes.

They skidded to a halt just inside the tree line. Slughorn was making Annabel and Peter double over in laughter by shouting "_Accio Dorcas! Accio James!_" Dorcas ran her hands through her long hair to get all of the leaves and twigs out.

"I'm never waiting this long to finish homework again," Remus said, clutching the stitch in his side.

"You always say that, Moony," Sirius laughed. "And yet we're always racing to class with the ink still wet on the parchment."

"I have to say," James added, glancing at Dorcas, "that I thought you were a bit more responsible than us, being Evans's best friend and all."

Dorcas laughed out loud. "You have no idea, Potter. If you knew what Lily was doing this past weekend, you would have a very different image of what her friends are like."

"What was Evans doing?" he asked eagerly.

"Only breaking about a hundred school rules. Sneaking out of the castle … lying to professors … brewing illegal potions," she counted off each offense on her fingers. "Of course, I'm an accomplice to it all."

"And you're giving James and Sirius cannon fodder, why?" Remus questioned.

She shrugged. "Just in a really good mood, I guess. Now that I know my one true love smells like wet dog, Black isn't looking so bad."

She stepped into the camp leaving Potter and Remus chortling and Black looking utterly bewildered … or was it perhaps, _heartened_? Oh, Merlin, why did she do that? As soon as she and Black had an understanding, she had to go and wreck it all by flirting.

"Now that we're all accounted for," Professor Sprout began. She cast Dorcas a withering glare. She had noticed the Hufflepuff prefect emerge from the forest with three virile young men and did not approve of that behavior at all. "On the way back to Hogwarts, each group will have an assignment much like the one you had coming to Arden. Group A—Snape, Bulstrode, and Parkinson— will collect Mandarin earthworms and bowtruckles, Group B—Potter, Meade, Knight, and Pettigrew—will catalog all magical plants and animals within two hundred feet of the forest, and Group C—Meadowes, Lupin, Black, and Robins— will gather knotgrass and monkshood. Group A with Professor Slughorn, Group B with Madam Pomfrey, and Group C with me."

The groups followed their assigned professor due west, towards the glen that ran in a long strip between the mountains and Forbidden Forest. At the end of that uninhabitable meadow (thanks to Muggle-Repelling Charms and various Ministry of Magic precautions), was the village of Hogsmeade and Hogwarts Castle.

Once they left the boughs of the forest, the professors spread out. Madam Pomfrey's formed a line and began moving through the waist-high grass bent, double and looking for signs of magical plants. Slughorn's students began digging in the earth immediately, and Professor Sprout's group parted the tall grass looking for clumps of the plants they needed to collect.

* * *

Tallulah let out a feral scream and dived behind Dorthea. The bigger girl scowled at her prissy friend, but continued to dig for worms without commenting. Beside her, Snape was drilling holes into the ground with his wand and flooding them right afterwards. Fat, wriggling Mandarin earthworms floated above ground, their two pinchers clinging desperately to the dirt. Before they could get away, Severus immobilized them. Dorthea had discovered throughout the Field Study that he wasn't actually stunning them, but killing them.

"How?" she whispered.

Severus surveyed her shrewdly. Playing dumb would not work with this girl. She was too sure of herself before she uttered a single syllable. More than that, Severus saw something familiar in her dark eyes: a lust to learn the Dark Arts. The Bulstrodes were honorable purebloods, but they had rather deluded beliefs about women.

No other family in the wizarding world produced such hearty girls, yet they were forbidden to learn advanced Dark spells and Unforgivables. This was complete rubbish, and Severus was sure Dorthea could cast a better Imperius Curse than most wizards he knew. With her determination and mental focus, she could go far.

"Nonverbal modified Stunner. Completely legal, since no one else knows about it," he murmured.

He pulled his Potions book from his knapsack and opened it to page two hundred and ninety-one. Scrawled in the upper left hand corner was an incantation. Dorthea pointed her wand at an earthworm trying to escape and concentrated hard. Next moment, it has ceased to move.

Severus watched her closely for any sign of remorse that would belie her tough exterior. He saw none. Her eyes widened, but not out of fear. She looked triumphant.

* * *

Annabel and Peter kneeled down in the grass, both squinting at a thorny bush. Slowly, the girl reached out for it. Peter gasped, but dove for her hand too late. If that really was a disguised Knarl, it would probably bite her hand off for touching it. The ball sprang to life, two beady eyes glaring up at Annabel. Peter jumped backwards.

"It's all right, Pete. Knarls are really very gentle unless you offer them food or drink. I think this one was taking a nap."

She made a few notes about the yawning Knarl on her sheet of parchment before standing up and letting the creature go back to sleep. The swaying grass nearly reached her chest, so kneeling or standing, she was still surrounded by itchy blades. Once she had stepped into a jarvey burrow and disappeared from sight completely.

"That was either really brave or really dumb," Peter muttered.

Annabel laughed, not the slightest put out. Care of Magical Creatures was her best subject. More and more she had been considering a career in that field. Maybe she could work in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, but definitely not the Committee for the Disposal of Dangerous Creatures. She didn't think any animal should have to die because some stupid wizard had bred it when he shouldn't have. Her real dream was to work with dragons, but Professor Kettleburn had lost half a leg to a Hungarian Horntail and refused to discuss them in class, so Annabel doubted she had much of a chance of getting an internship in Romania.

"I do wish Sprout would have let us collect bowtruckles, but I wouldn't like to think they were being cut up for potions ingredients."

Peter scowled. "Those bowtruckles in third-year were awful! One of them nearly bit my finger off! Can you imagine spending the rest of your life without a finger?"

The girl narrowed her eyes at him. "Professor Kettleburn has lost quite a few fingers, and it's not nearly the inconvenience of losing, say, your _arm_."

"Oh, right," he replied, blushing. "I just meant … I wouldn't want to lose any part of my body to a bowtruckle."

"It probably would have given the finger back. They only eat insects. Human flesh wouldn't suit them."

Annabel parted the grass and continued moving. Madam Pomfrey seemed very serious about getting as much catalogued as possible. Apparently, there was some Ministry of Magic project their data would contribute to, which was how Dumbledore had managed to get them all post-Hogwarts credit for the Field Study.

"What would I have done with a severed finger?" Peter called after her.

"I don't know. Got Madam Pomfrey to put it back on your hand?"

The matron appeared at their side, having been taking notes on a large clump of dittany a moment before. The talk of severed digits seemed to have unnerved her greatly, because she kept muttering about the dangers of the forest and how she hoped nothing tragic happened before they arrived back at Hogwarts.

"What with Mr. Black's bite and Stunning Spells gone wrong and no Pepper-Up Potions and now Sprout's got Mr. Lupin looking for …"

She hurried off, not finishing her sentence. Peter and Annabel continued writing about all the plants and animals they saw.

"Mr. Lupin," the nurse blustered. A knot of long grass was protruding from her hat and her cheeks were splotched with pink. "I think you should be put into another group for this assignment."

"Really, Madam Pomfrey, I'm fine," Remus argued. She had been casting nervous glances at him all morning, like he wasn't aware that he shouldn't touch monkshood.

The matron began to protest, but Dorcas cut across her. "Really, Madam Pomfrey, I can gather the monkshood. Remus doesn't have to go anywhere near it." The nurse opened her mouth. "And I'll clean my hands afterwards." Again, Pomfrey started to speak. "And place an Unbreakable Charm on the jar. And sanitize the outside of the jar. And put it in my bag."

"Fine, fine, Miss Meadowes! I trust you'll do everything perfectly."

She did not look particularly happy as she marched away. When Professor Dumbledore had informed the nurse that Dorcas would be tending to Remus's injuries after full moons, she dragged Dorcas into the hospital wing for a talking-to. They had ended up rather good friends, Pomfrey teaching Dorcas advanced Healing spells and Potions, but the matron was still nervous about entrusting the care of one student to another.

"She'll get over it," Remus said bracingly, seeing the worried look on Dorcas's face. "She knows I'd rather not stay in the hospital wing all the time, and she can't come to the Shrieking Shack twice a day like you can."

"I doubt you even need me there anymore," Dorcas mumbled.

"What? Of course I do."

"No, not really! The last few months you've barely hurt yourself at all."

Remus looked away guiltily. "I can't tell you why, but James and Sirius said you already knew."

"James and Sirius are full of dragon dung."

"That's not very nice!" Black said, sidling over to Dorcas. He wrapped an arm around her shoulder. "And I thought we were starting to get along."

"What's wrong with you?" she demanded.

Sure, they had had a good time that morning while frantically finishing their Transfiguration, Charms, Care of Magical Creatures, and Defense Against the Dark Arts homework. Actually, it was Remus who finished Defense, while James did their Transfiguration, Dorcas did Charms, and Sirius completed Care of Magical Creatures. But that did not mean he was allowed to cling to her like this. There was a strange look in his eye, too—kind of glazed and loopy.

"Nothing at all! I feel amazing, like I've never felt before!"

Remus and Dorcas exchanged silent glances.

"This isn't good," Remus muttered.

"Meadowes, I've got to tell you. When we get back to Hogwarts, I'm never going to bother you again. Do you know why?"

Dorcas was afraid to hazard a guess. She remembered the many times he had threatened to pull one final prank on her. Those memorable moments had included walking around for a week with a Muggle light bulb levitated over her head and a jinxed piece of parchment that insulted her every time she tried to take notes on it.

"Because I know how much it annoys you. I only want to make you happy, Dorcas!"

She jumped away from him, as if burned. Dorcas had nightmare images of the terrible curses he had placed on her while his arm was around her neck. It would be just childish enough for him to put a sign on her back that said "Hex Me."

She reached behind her back, trying to feel for any parchment. Of course, one of the results of grasping at one's own back is jumping around like an idiot. She made several turns before she stopped dead.

Piper Robins was standing several yards away, watching the scene with a mixture of shock and revulsion on her face. A water flask was in her hand, and she kept glancing between the flask and Black. It took all of two seconds for Dorcas to fit the pieces together.

"Okay, Black, it's not your fault you're acting like a lunatic, but you really want to stay away from me," Dorcas said. "Go bug Potter."

"My bugging days are over, Dorcas. I'm going on the straight-and-narrow, just like you. I'm going to confess all my sins to Professor McGonagall and serve my detentions without complaint."

"What's wrong with him?" Remus demanded, now sound panicky.

"That brainless Ravenclaw slag gave him some potion that she no doubt got a T on," Dorcas replied bitterly. "Now he's behaving like I've Imperiused him or something."

"What potion that we brewed would do that, though?"

"No idea, which means we either take him to Slughorn, and he'll spill his guts about knowing secret passages and jinxing first-years, or we hope it wears off."

Dorcas had half a mind to frog-march him to Professor Sprout and laugh manically while he lost Gryffindor hundreds of points and got a year's worth of detention. But she couldn't do that. It wouldn't be fair to Gryffindor to lose points this year because of Black's accumulate misdeeds. And anyway, his behavior would give her plenty of leverage later on. If he made a fool out of himself before the potion wore off, so much the better for his ego.

"If it gets worse, we'll go to a professor," Remus suggested.

Clearly, he didn't want his friends to lose the privilege of sneaking around the castle. It was regrettable, Dorcas thought, that all the prefects in their year were secretly trouble-makers.

* * *

"Where were you this morning?" Lily asked, as casually as she could.

"Wha—Oh, I was finishing my homework with Sirius, Remus, and Dorcas," James said, hastily describing a gnome disappearing into its hole.

"Dorcas? She helped _you_? Why?"

"Reciprocity, Meade. I did her Transfiguration, she did my Charms."

Lily's cheeks turned red. "You cheated! _Dorcas_ cheated? I don't know what's gotten into her this year. She's a prefect! And she's way too smart to copy off anyone else. If she would just apply herself …"

"What—the—hell, Meade?" James demanded. "Why are you harping on about Meadowes? You sound like her mother."

Lily snapped her mouth shut. She was sick of pretending to be Garry. He was cocky, annoying, and stupid. In short, worse than James on a bad day. Lily wasn't any of those things and she didn't know how to act that way. Just half a day more, she told herself. As soon as she was back at Hogwarts, she could change back into herself and stay that way forever. She would never take Polyjuice Potion again … and she was going to hex Dorcas within an inch of her life.

"We still have more to discuss, Potter," she said, ignoring his last comment.

"Oh, yeah. What else do you know about Evans?"

"No, we're not talking about her anymore. We're going to talk about you."

James opened and closed his mouth several times before he thought up a suitable response. "Why?"

So much for suitable, Lily thought. "Because, you can know everything about Lily and she still won't go out with you." Before James could ask why not, Lily answered the question. "There are some things about you she just can't understand."

"Like what?" he wondered, as if everything he did had a completely obvious reason.

"Why do you always have to look like you've just flown through a tornado on a broomstick?"

Immediately James's hand flew to his hair. Lily tried really, really hard not to roll her eyes, but she wasn't able to prevent herself.

"Nervous habit," James grunted.

"Bullocks."

"Okay, fine! I like the way I look with messy hair, is that a crime? You throw a conniption fit if one hair is out of place, so don't you dare lecture me, Meade."

"She thinks it makes you look like an idiot."

"Well, too bad! I like Evans, but I'm not going to be whipped into shape by a girl!"

Lily wondered if he was just posturing for Meade or if he really meant it. Either way, she couldn't deny that she liked his answer. She certainly wouldn't change any of her habits for a boyfriend. As a complete egalitarian, Lily believed men shouldn't bow to women either. It made for weak personalities, no matter the gender.

"_Why_ do you insist on calling her Evans?"

James looked confused. "I thought we'd discussed this. What else would I call her?"

"I don't know, maybe … Lily?"

"Yeah, but I don't know her. I mean, I know her and that's why I like her, but I don't _know_ her. You know?"

Lily shook her head. She had some idea of what he meant, and she could appreciate that he only called certain people by their first names. It really wasn't worth the effort of asking him to explain, she thought. She'd heard the word "know" enough to last her a week.

"Final question. Why do you hex people who are smaller and less experienced than you?"

"They had it coming."

"Like hell they did, Potter!"

"Shut-up, Meade! You and Evans and Meadowes can't see everything that goes on at Hogwarts. How do you know some first-year with an attitude problem didn't trip me Muggle-style? How do you know—"

"You need to get over yourself, Potter! Not every wrong deserves retribution! There are some things you just have to let go. Until you learn that, Lily won't give you the time of day. You're a better wizard, Potter, everyone knows that. Especially Lily. You don't have to flaunt it. You have the ability to be the bigger man, but you never are! You retaliate like an injured two-year-old when you could set an example. And that, Potter, is the real reason Lily can't stand you. You have such amazing potential—you're talented, popular, and the epitome of Gryffindor—but you waste all that on revenge."

Hogwarts Castle appeared in the distance as Lily disappeared into the grass, looking for another plant or animal to detail on her parchment.

James stood in the same spot for many minutes, gazing unseeingly at the castle. Only when Madam Pomfrey gave him a little nudge did he begin walking again, but his thoughts were not on the magical plants and animals in the field. More than ever he was consumed by thoughts of Lily Evans.


	10. Oliver

**Of Amortentia & Polyjuice Potion**

**Chapter Ten**

"**Oliver"**

Dorcas sprinted through the corridors of Hogwarts Castle, her head turning right and left, searching for Garry Meade. The stupid jock was late. He was supposed to be waiting in the second floor hallway outside of Moaning Myrtle's bathroom when they got back from the Field Study. Apparently, he was too good to wait for a bunch of girls.

The portraits shouted admonishments at Dorcas as she streaked past, but she didn't pay them any mind. If she didn't find Garry soon, there would be hell to pay. Lily had run out of Polyjuice Potion, which meant Garry should have also. Any minute now, he would turn back into himself—cramped into Gryffindor robes, size medium. It wouldn't take a genius to figure out what was going on.

"There you are!" Dorcas shouted.

Lily—er, Garry—turned towards her voice, seemingly unconcerned about the time and strolling down the corridor in the opposite direction of Myrtle's bathroom.

"Get—to—the—second—floor—now!"

Garry made a convulsive motion, like something inside his stomach was struggling to get out. Dorcas grabbed his wrist and began running up the marble staircase. The portraits threw tissy-fits again, some of the occupants running through neighboring frames to continue shouting at Dorcas.

"… and you a prefect, causing ruckus and mayhem! In my day prefects set examples, young lady! Oh, and _another_ prefect running amok in the hallways! And a Gryffindor too! Shame has fallen on my House!"

Had this been a less serious situation, Dorcas would have toyed mercilessly with the old woman. She would have doodled on busts and rearranged tapestries and shouted swearwords. But her priority was getting Garry into the girls' bathroom on the second floor.

"Anywhere there is ruckus and mayhem Peeves is sure to be!" cackled the poltergeist.

"Oh, no, not now!" Dorcas whined.

Peeves floated above the students, chucking stink pellets and bits of chalk at them. No doubt, he had been somewhere else doing the same thing only moment ago, and unfortunately, had a whole cache of unused projectiles.

Dorcas skidded around the corner, Garry clutching at her shoulders to keep from slipping. His face was contorted in pain now, and Dorcas could tell that at any moment the potion would wear off. She would be stranded in the corridor with Garry in too small robes and Peeves as a witness that Lily Evans had sudden morphed into Garry Meade. Their plan seemed to be crashing about their ears, but at the end of the hallway, the door to Myrtle's bathroom opened a crack and Annabel's face peered out.

"Not much farth—Oh!" Dorcas cried. She slid to a halt before Professor McGonagall.

"Miss Meadowes, Miss Evans! I thought two prefects would know how to behave properly, but—"

Dorcas glanced sidelong at Garry. There was no time. If Peeves alone had seen the transformation, maybe she could have talked her way out of it, but Professor McGonagall was a hundred times more clever than Peeves, and she would not be fooled by any story Dorcas came up with—not that she would dare lie to the Head of Gryffindor House anyway.

"Please, Professor, she's going to be sick!"

Without waiting for a reply, Dorcas took off down the hallway and burst into Myrtle's bathroom just as Garry turned back into himself. Annabel's cheeks turned beat red as Lily's small robes split under the pressure of Garry's expanding girth. Lily hastily threw him his own robes before turning her back, while Dorcas stole a few peaks at the nearly-naked Beater's physique.

The clip-clopping of high-heeled shoes shortly preceded Professor McGonagall entering the bathroom. Garry had enough sense to dive into a stall, and Dorcas kicked Lily in the knee so that she fell over.

"Miss Evans! Are you all right! If I had known you were ill, I wouldn't have scolded you! We need to get you to the hospital wing. Up you get, Miss Evans. Oh my, Madam Pomfrey will be beside herself!"

That evening, while every other student who went on the Field Study was relaxing in steaming baths full of fragrant bubbles, Lily, Annabel, and Dorcas were in the hospital wing. Regardless of that fact that there was nothing physically wrong with Lily, Madam Pomfrey had insisted she spend the night in the hospital wing. Her friends opted to sit with her and forgo the creature comforts of Hogwarts Castle, since it was partially their doing that Lily was forced to lie in bed.

"Lucky McGonagall has a tender streak," Annabel whispered. "Anyone else might have noticed Dorcas drop-kicking Lily."

She mimed Dorcas's leg flying into the air and Lily falling down. It made her friends laugh even if it was a bit more extreme than what had happened. She was right, though, Dorcas had been less-than-subtle.

"Isn't someone going to miss you if you stay up here all night?" Lily asked Annabel.

The blonde girl turned pink and mumbled something incoherent about dinner and walking to Hufflepuff Cellar.

"I'm happy for you, Anna. Pete's a nice guy. His friends are bad influences, that's all. You'll be good for him."

"Pete? Peter Pettigrew?" Dorcas asked. "Ugh!"

Lily scowled silently at her best friend. Sometimes she forgot that Annabel was only popular by association. Lily often wondered if Dorcas and Black weren't a good match for the simple fact that they both took their beauty and brains for granted. It was all natural for them, and they had never known anything but acceptance. Lily and Annabel, both Muggle-borns, had been outcasts at their primary schools because of strange things that happened around them. Lily knew what it was like to be loathed, Dorcas didn't.

"Shut up, Dorcas!" Annabel said shrilly.

Lily and Dorcas went utterly silent. Annabel never contradicted her friends, especially Dorcas, who Lily knew she admired more. She had probably secretly liked Peter for quite awhile, but never acknowledged it because she was afraid of what her friends would say.

An hour later, Lily bid them good-night as they left for Hufflepuff Cellar. Dorcas and Annabel turned in for bed in stony silence, both knowing they would forget their tiff by morning, but refusing to speak to each other all the same.

The next morning over breakfast, Dorcas and Annabel's quiet reconciliation was interrupted by a tall, raven-haired boy running towards the Hufflepuff table.

"Meadowes! Meadowes!" Heads turned to stare as Sirius Black ran across the Great Hall, waving his hands in the air. "I got something for you," he gasped, crashing onto the bench beside Dorcas.

"What's this?" Annabel laughed. "You're friends now?"

"What's wrong with you?" Dorcas hissed, but she knew he wouldn't be able to answer. Whatever Piper gave him had addled his brains.

Speaking of, the Ravenclaw harlot was sidling out of the Hall, casting scathing glares at Dorcas over her shoulder.

"Come on, Black," she ordered, standing up.

"Where are we going?"

"To talk to Piper."

Black followed obediently like a puppy trailing happily after her. No doubt Potter had noticed his best friend behaving strangely, because he joined them between the Gryffindor and Hufflepuff tables.

"Any clue what's going on?" he asked.

"I've got a shrewd idea." Dorcas emerged from the Great Hall and pointed her wand at Piper, who had her foot on the bottom step of the marble staircase. "_Impedimenta!_ What did you give him, Piper?"

The frozen girl spoke haltingly because of the jinx. "Don't—what—talking—"

"Yes, you do. What was in Black's water bottle yesterday afternoon?" Dorcas insisted. "I swear to God, I'll hit you with a Boxing Hex."

Dorcas was well known for this particular hex, and not many people would defy her when threatened with a sound beating.

"A—mor—ten—tia."

"What! That doesn't explain why he's suddenly my shadow. Did you give him some of _my_ Amortentia?"

"—No. Slughorn—gave—P."

Dorcas groaned and Potter gaped.

"Why would you give anyone a potion that receives a failing grade!"

The spell lifted a second later and Piper practically flew up the stairs to get away from Dorcas. Potter looked down at his hand. Piper had shoved a crumpled scroll at him while she fled.

_Grade: P_

_This potion is non-specific. A key ingredient is missing, that is, a portion of yourself. The only affect of this potion will be a reinforcement of already present feelings._

"Then why is he stalking me?" Dorcas wondered, reading over Potter's shoulder. He cast her a reproachful glare, obviously not used to girls being able to see clearly over his shoulder. "Whatever. Not the point. Come on, Black, we're going to get an antidote."

"Hey, Prongs, we're going to get an antidote," Black said happily.

"No, Potter can't come."

Black spun around, glaring daggers at his best friend and speaking like a selfish two-year-old, "Yeah, Potter, you can't come!"

"Oh for Merlin's sake!" the girl cried, tugging at Black's arm. When they were halfway up the staircase, Lily came strolling out of the Great Hall. Dorcas's voice drifted down to her. "And be nice to him, he's your best friend."

"What's up with Sirius?" Lily asked.

James was apparently shocked that Lily was speaking so genially to him because he started, then stared for several moments.

"Piper gave him a botched love potion."

"Not the Amortentia w—you brewed?" she giggled. She headed for Ancient Runes her laughter growing louder as she walked away from James.

Lily was nearly to the Ancient Runes corridor (and still laughing sporadically) when she heard a rustling movement behind her. Expecting to see Mrs. Havisham, Filch's calico cat, she turned and glared at ankle-height. What she saw, however, was not the skin-and-bones cat. It was a pair of high-heeled buckled boots.

"Oh!" Lily cried, looking up.

"Ah, Miss Evans, just the student I was looking for," Headmaster Dumbledore said serenely. "Accompany me to my office?"

It was not a request and Lily knew it. Guilt and terror flooded her brain. He knew! He must know. Of course Dumbledore would find out, even if every other professor and student was too dumb to realize that she had been acting strangely (that is to say, Garry was acting strangely … or actually would it be that she was acting odd … No, because Garry …). Lily decided it was too confusing to think about too much.

"Professor Vector will have to excuse you from today's lesson. I'm afraid this is far too important."

Lily had been never been to the Headmaster's office before. Dorcas, having lessons with Dumbledore once a week, knew the circular room as well as any classroom and had talked about it on many occasions. Everything was like she had described it—the snoozing portraits, the whirling silver objects, and the chintz armchairs.

Lily found that she couldn't respond to the Headmaster. Her throat was constricted and her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. Her head was spinning from adrenaline, and for one terrible moment, she thought she might fall over. Then Dumbledore motioned her into a chair as he sat behind his desk.

"What an odd occurrence to run into the very student I was hoping to seek down the Ancient Runes corridor. Lucky Peeves was terrorizing Mr. Filch."

Lily almost laughed—almost. His nonchalant voice eased her foreboding somewhat, although she was still sure he knew about the Polyjuice Potion. She knew for a fact that Dumbledore was a Legilimens because he had taught Dorcas Occlumency. She was uncomfortably aware that he could be seeing everything she was thinking.

"I would like to know, Miss Evans, what you learned this weekend."

For a moment, Lily was tempted to lie, to blurt out some elaborate story about all the studying for exams she had done. But she couldn't bring herself to be dishonest with Professor Dumbledore, who had had enough faith in her to make her a prefect.

Having decided to confess to everything, she wasn't sure where to begin. Had she really learned anything new in Arden? They had used their textbooks on all but one assignment, but she could have brewed any of those potions or gathered any plants with instructions. Even the homework assigned for her other classes was mostly review.

What she had learned had nothing to do with academia. She had thought Potter was a one dimensional miscreant, that he only asked her out because he was bored, that he delighted in playing the bully. But he was more than that. Deep down, he was a good guy. If only he would show that side more often, she might not always say no when he asked her to Hogsmeade.

"I'm sorry, sir," Lily began, "I think I broke about a dozen rules for entirely the wrong reasons."

"And why is that, Miss Evans?" Lily saw a sparkle in his eye, and she had the sudden desire to tell someone her true feelings. She didn't think Dumbledore would expel her if she was truthful.

"All I learned was that maybe I like a certain boy who has annoyed me for six years."

"Indeed?" He looked very happy all of a sudden. "Your good friend Miss Meadowes has mentioned it a few times during our lessons."

"Wha—. Dorcas hates James. Why would she talk about him?"

"Oh, I daresay she doesn't remember it, but Occlumency lessons bring out a side of her few have ever seen," he replied enigmatically. "By the look on your face, you're as confused as Miss Meadowes would be if I said this to her."

"Sir, I …" Lily paused, taking a deep breath. She knew what she had to do. "… I need to resign as Gryffindor prefect. I've broken too many rules, sir, and I can't enforce what I don't respect."

Dumbledore's eyebrows rose. "That is very noble of you, Miss Evans. I wonder, will Miss Meadowes also resign?"

"W—What? Dorcas didn't have anything …"

But she trailed off. Of course. Dumbledore had known about their plan long before they'd gone on the Field Study. He had Occlumency lessons with Dorcas every week. Lily doubted her best friend was skilled enough to keep Dumbledore out of her mind.

"I decline your offer, Miss Evans. Your remorse is sincere. I see no need to inform the whole school of what you've done."

"But, sir, my punishment—"

"—shall be that you receive no credit for all the hard work you did this weekend. Now, I believe I should locate Peeves before his behavior causes our caretaker to explode with undue fury."

* * *

Evans walked away laughing, leaving James alone in the entrance hall.

He shook his head. As much as he wanted to contemplate Evans's sudden swing in behavior, he had been meaning to talk to Meade this morning. He knew they both had a free period after breakfast and wanted to make the most of it. James might not like the Ravenclaw Captain very much, but he had promised to discuss Quidditch strategy, and James Potter always kept his word.

"Oi, Meade!" James called.

Meade had been lurking around the Charms corridor, probably waiting for Flitwick to return so he could ask for the new Ravenclaw Common Room password. That, or his abysmal Charms skills needed tutoring.

"Oh, it's you, Potter. I've already booked the pitch for practice tonight, Thursday, and all day Saturday."

"You're not even playing any more matches this year! Gryffindor needs that time to beat Slytherin. You do want Slytherin beat, don't you?"

"Of course I do!" he responded, puffing his chest out importantly. "If Gryffindor beats Slytherin by two hundred points, you'll win the Quidditch Cup. But if you only win by one-hundred and fifty, you tie Ravenclaw for first. We'll have to play another match, and I'm making sure my team is ready."

James ground his teeth. Like he needed reminding that Longbottom had missed the Snitch in the second game of the season because was making eyes at Alice Hall! Of course James knew the stakes of the game, which was why he needed the pitch more than Ravenclaw.

"Fine, if it's all about the glory of our own House instead of ours versus Slytherin, why did you even mention talking about a strategy for recruiting stronger teams next year?"

"What? Why would I talk strategy with you? Gryffindor is the reason Ravenclaw hasn't won the Quidditch Cup in six years."

"I don't know! You brought it up, Meade!"

"When?" the other boy demanded.

"The first night on the Field Study! Like you don't remember!"

"Oh … right. The Field Study." For a minute, he seemed to lose some of his composure. "I wasn't exactly _myself_ on the Field Study."

"What you talking about?" James snapped.

"Let's just say, I made a deal with someone. I stayed behind, they went instead."

"That's rubbish. I saw you."

"You didn't see _me_."

"Fine. Then who—"

But James didn't need to finish the question. The answer hit him like a brick wall. "Meade" had pushed him to the edge of his patience trying to dissuade him from pursuing Evans. "Meade" had grown uncharacteristically hostile at seemingly random moments. "Meade" had been impressed by what he said about Evans.

Without another word, James sprinted down the corridor. He saw Meadowes and Sirius at the end of the hall, apparently bickering and it looked like they had both pulled out their wands. James skidded to a halt, grabbing onto Sirius for some help and pulling his friend to the ground in the process.

"Where's Lily?"

"Lily?" Meadowes wondered blankly.

"You know, short, red hair, I've liked her since the moment I saw her."

"Oh. Right. Ancient Runes."

James was off again, ignoring Sirius's protests as he pelted around the corner. He would just have to wait for Evans outside the classroom. No, he couldn't wait that long. He needed to see her. First, he would demand an explanation. Then, he would apologize for hexing her in the face. Then, he was going to kiss her whether she liked it or not. Well, no, not really. But was sure going to try … and probably get slapped.

"Evans!" James cried, bursting into the Ancient Runes class.

Professor Vector stopped in mid-sentence, her wands suspended at an odd angle. The translation on the chalkboard stopped revealing itself immediately. The short witch seemed to be deciding how best to handle this intrusion.

"With the Headmaster," she replied.

James was racing down the hall a second later. He hit a suit of armor as he rounded another corner. The steel flew helter-skelter across the hallway, causing the portrait of a rotund old wizard to laugh raucously and the bust of Melvin the Misguided to turn curiously in his direction.

"Hey, you! Hoodlum! Good job!"

At last, James reached the hall of the seventh-floor that led to the Headmaster's office. The gargoyle jumped aside and two people stepped off the revolving staircase. It was Dumbledore with Evans.

James felt a horrible pang in his chest. She had already confessed! He knew no one could lie to Dumbledore, and he doubted Evans had even considered it. She was going to be expelled! She wasn't seventeen yet. They would snap her wand in half and she would go back to living as a Muggle. He would never see her fiery hair again, never hear her screaming at him, and never convince her to go on a date with him.

"Professor Dumbledore," James shouted, "there's been a huge mistake! It … it was me! Evans had nothing to do with it."

Dumbledore's eyebrows rose slightly, but he said nothing. Maybe he was willing to listen, maybe he wanted to hear James's theory on how Evans had had no choice but to take Polyjuice Potion and confess to it.

"I made her do it. I brewed Polyjuice Potion and forced her to drink it so that she could come on the Field Study. I wanted to spend some time with her and get to know her better, because … well, I like her." He felt a bit awkward saying this to the Headmaster, but there was nothing for it now. "You see, I used a very powerful Cheering Charm and she went all giddy and said she'd do anything for me. Well, it was better than Imperiusing her."

"True," Dumbledore mumbled, or James thought he did.

"So … anyway, I knew Evans would never forgive me if I made her turn into Meadowes or Knight, you know because … they're … friends … and Evans would want her friends to get post-Hogwarts credits," he rushed. He was sweating now and absently wiped his brow with his sleeve.

"Mr. Potter," Dumbledore began.

"So you see it was all my fault and not Evans's at all, so you don't have to expel her! It wouldn't be right—"

"Mr. Potter!" Dumbledore cried, his aged voice straining to be heard over James's frantic storytelling. The young man fell silent immediately. "That was quite an economical version of the truth and admirable in intention. However, Miss Evans has already confessed, as has Miss Meadowes, and forgive me, but I am more apt to believe their version of events. I assure you, Mr. Potter, had both young ladies not told the truth, they would have been expelled. Now, if you'll excuse me, there is a poltergeist I need to find and a caretaker to allay."

"So …," James began when Dumbledore was out of earshot, "you and Meadowes aren't in any trouble?"

"Oh, I expect we're in much more trouble than she or I can ever know. He'll be keeping an eye on us, I'm sure, and we won't get a third chance," she replied. "Why did you do that? If that had been anyone else, they might have believed you and then you'd be in a bind."

James shuffled his feet. "I was just …"

"… being chivalrous."

James looked up sharply, hardly believing his ears. Did Evans just compliment him? She certainly wasn't looking mutinous. Inside, he was whooping ecstatically. All his hard work had finally paid off! Six years of suave seduction and Evans was all his.

"Although I wish you would let me fight my own battles, I don't really have a right to be angry with you," she explained. "After all, I did deceive you."

"That's right! You did!"

Suddenly James felt very somber. He wasn't exactly happy that he'd made a fool of himself in front of Evans, but her evil plan to thwart his affections had backfired on her, hadn't it? He was more determined than ever to make her his girlfriend. And now he had ammunition. He knew what she wanted, what she liked about him, and what she didn't.

Evans seemed braced for a tongue lashing or sound hexing. James would have reacted that way on Thursday, but now, on Tuesday, he knew that Evans thought more of him. She expected him to be _mature_.

"Did Dumbledore mention Hogsmeade at all?" James wondered. He didn't miss the disappointed expression on Evans's face. "Because if you're allowed to go, I'll be in the Three Broomsticks around noon if you wanted to talk."

Evans's eyes were the size of saucers. _Right on the Galleon_, James thought. He'd never been gentlemanly when he asked her out before. Not that he'd ever exactly asked. "Hey, Evans, come to Hogsmeade with me" wasn't the kind of invitation she was looking for.

Her mouth moved silently for a few moments. "I'll think about it."

"Great," James said, smiling. "I've got Care of Magical Creatures. See you later."


	11. Rosalind & Orlando

**Of Amortentia & Polyjuice Potion**

**Chapter Eleven**

"**Rosalind & Orlando"**

James leaned against the banister, his arms crossed over his chest and his hazel eyes scanning the entrance hall. There was something very wrong with what he was seeing, but he couldn't exactly describe it. … Humorous? … Romantic? … Just?…

Remus and Sirius were standing beside James chatting about where they wanted to go once they got to Hogsmeade. It had been a long, long while since Padfoot hadn't had a date for a Hogsmeade weekend, but not unheard of.

Piper and Garry were nowhere to be seen, which probably meant they were in a broom cupboard somewhere—nothing unusual there except that Piper didn't go for the same boy twice and Garry didn't go for brunettes.

The Slytherins weren't joined at the hip like usual. Snape and Bulstrode were muttering to one another, while Parkinson scowled at them from her place several yards away and refused to speak at all.

Dorcas and Lily were quietly comparing nail polish or rings or cuticles or whatever it was girls talked about while looking at their hands. And while that wasn't abnormal, the fact that Annabel wasn't at their heels like a lost puppy certainly was.

This brought James to the most peculiar sight of all. Standing on the marble stairs, hand in hand, were Peter and Annabel. James was thrilled for his friend, but had been caught off guard by Annabel's sudden one-eighty.

"What kind of world is it," Sirius wondered, "when Snape and Pete get the girls, and you and I are single?"

James almost conceded the point, but something made him hold his tongue—a flicker, a glance, a half smile—Lily's bright green eyes surveyed him for the briefest of moments, but for the first time ever, she didn't look revolted or furious when their eyes met.

"There's someone for everyone," he replied.

Sirius looked flabbergasted, but Remus grinned knowingly. "True, Prongs. And quite mature of you to realize."

Sirius glanced between his best friends. "What'd Snape put into your pumpkin juice, James?"

"Oh, I don't think this has anything to do with him. I'd say it's more or less the feminine wiles of a certain redhead."

"Huh?" was all Sirius could think to say.

"They told you?" James asked. "What am I thinking? Of course they told you. Lily and Dorcas tell you everything."

The group of students followed the well-worn path from Hogwarts to Hogsmeade in groups of twos and threes. It was a fine day outside, if a little chilly. Light and dark patches dotted the road as fluffy white clouds passed in front of the sun high in the cerulean sky.

"You're kidding, Lily," Dorcas said. It wasn't a question.

"No."

"Yes, you are." Another statement. Dorcas felt a well of panic rising up. Lily had to be joking. She couldn't—wouldn't possibly suggest … No, it wouldn't happen. Ever.

"Look, it's just a butterbeer, that's all. James said—"

"James! Since when do we call them by their first names!"

"—that Annabel will probably be there too. It'll be a half hour at most, Dorcas."

"Okay, fine. Since he coerced you into it we'll meet Potter for a butterbeer, but that's it. They're having a sale at Gresham's Used Book Shop and you know how badly I want that 1624 edition of _The Myth of Dark Creatures_. It was written by my great-great grandmother's great grandfather's second cousin. That's when we were label blood traitors—"

But Lily wasn't listening to Dorcas recount her family history. As interesting at it was (partially because the Evans's could only trace their family tree back three generations) she had other things on her mind. Like, had Potter coerced her into meeting him? She would have liked to think so, but she knew that wasn't true. He had _asked_ her to have a butterbeer with him. She hadn't said yes, but the decision was made automatically.

Over the weekend Lily had seen a part of James—buried deep beneath a façade of arrogance—that she genuinely liked. Yes, he was infantile, conceited, and callous. But he was also honest, loyal, and strong. Didn't everyone have some defense mechanism? Lily certainly knew she did. Her temper often masked more vulnerable emotions.

She had come to believe that James's ego wasn't actually as large as she had thought. Not that she considered him meek, but some of that was pomp. She had seen the real James and she was willing to take a plunge—to go on a semi-date—if maybe she could get to know that side of James a little bit better.

"—my mother got her writing talent from her mother's side," Dorcas concluded.

Lily had missed most of the diatribe, but she did catch the last bit. "Oh, of course. Your mum always gets the good stories for the _Prophet_."

The two friends visited all their favorite places—Gram Toile's bakery, Scrivenshafts, and Prospero's Prophetic Palace—and spent their Galleons on items every teenage girl and top student thinks is essential for life—colorized ink, tarot decks, nail polish, and chocolate—before making their way to the Three Broomsticks.

The bell jangled above the door as Dorcas and Lily entered. Annabel and Peter were nowhere to be seen. Annabel's secret desire since third-year had been to go to Madam Puddifoot's. Dorcas thought the place was overrated; Lily blushed every time the coffee shop was mentioned.

Madam Rosemerta was bustling about the crowded tavern, a tray of firewhiskey floating before her. In the back, three boys were waving in their direction. Remus looked dignified, waving from the wrist, but Black had stood on top of his chair and was gesturing wildly with both arms.

Dorcas groaned. "Only for you, Lily. Only for you."

Her friend laughed lightly. "What, not harboring secret desires for court jesters?"

The brunette grinned widely. "Good description of Black. I'll have to use that sometime."

The girls picked their way through pub, careful not to knock into the patrons. Third-years wouldn't protest too much if two sixth-year prefects caused them to spill their butterbeer, but these adult wizards looked much more serious about their alcohol consumption. Many of them appeared to be professionals, from the Ministry or _Prophet_ or Gringotts, holding luncheon meetings.

"Five butterbeers, Rosmerta, if you please," Black called, smiling smoothly at the barmaid.

"Well, this is a sight I never thought I'd see! Sirius Black and Dorcas Meadowes at the same table—oh!—and Lily Evans and James Potter too. Arden must have worked its magic," Rosmerta laughed, as she set down the bottles.

Dorcas scowled ferociously at the woman, and Black flashed her a roguish grin, but Potter and Lily both averted their eyes and mumbled something that sounded like "no idea what you mean."

The second Dorcas finished her butterbeer, she cut across Black's exhaustive explanation of how he had single-handedly beaten off an angry horde of doxies while Snape spurned them on with illegal and diabolical jinxes.

"Well, if this lovely rendezvous is over, I think I'll go visit Honeyduke's."

"I'll come with," Remus said. He glanced between Lily and James, both of whom had been unusually subdued while sipping their drinks. Dorcas could have sworn she saw him kick Black's foot. "We haven't been to Honeyduke's yet."

"Huh? Oh, right. Let's go to Honeyduke's."

"I didn't want to go with you!"

"That a touch rude, Meadowes," Black fired back.

"Let's fight outside," Remus suggested evenly. He promptly took his friends by the arms and steered them out the door.

"Look, our armistice is going fine, let's not ruin it by talking to each other."

"Armistice," Black chuckled. "You crack me up, Meadowes. Come on, I'll buy you a bag full of Unbreakable Jaw Breakers as consolation for having to put up with me while James and Lily profess their undying love for one another."

Dorcas would have protested, but an entire bag full of her favorite candy was too good to pass up. A full Honeyduke's bag—300 pieces of candy—would last her for at least two weeks.

"What are you thinking, Remus?" Dorcas asked, seeing the humorous expression on her friend's face.

"I can't tell you. You'd hex me into St. Mungo's."

Black suddenly became interested. Anything that might make Dorcas that furious at Remus—_Remus_—was worth knowing.

"_Muffliato_!" Sirius whispered. "So, what is it?"

For a moment, Meadowes kept walking without another thought for Remus's pensive mood. Then she realized what spell must have been cast.

"Don't you dare, Remus! I know what you're thinking and I swear to Merlin if you tell Black I'll hit you so hard with a Boxing Hex you'll have a concussion! I'll have you tarred and feathered in front of the whole school!"

"Well?" Sirius asked, not lifting the spell.

"I was just thinking that you two are meant for each other," Remus replied.

Sirius nodded. He had told his friends this many times, and they had always agreed. In fact, the only person who had ever raised an objection to this quite obvious perfect arrangement was Dorcas.

Sirius removed the spell a minute later and Dorcas could once again hear their conversation.

"You've got some good ideas, Meadowes. Is there a hex to tar and feather someone?" Black asked.

"Yup. I did it to Malfoy before he graduated."

"And you got away with it?" Black gasped.

Remus began laughing raucously. "Of course not! Where do you think she learned the Boxing Hex?"

Dorcas grinned sheepishly. "He was too good a wizard for me to take on at that age."

They entered Honeyduke's and went their separate ways. Remus liked the Jelly Slugs and moved off to the back of the shop to grab a handful while Sirius and Dorcas went up front. After Black handed her a bulging bag of sweets (two Galleons, eight Sickles worth), Dorcas felt compelled to say something.

"Hey, Black."

"Yeah." He looked almost hopeful, like some romantic notion from their last visit to Honeyduke's would make Dorcas see him in a whole new light.

"If you ever use the Tar and Feather Hex against me or anyone else, I'll tell Dumbledore every last piece of dirt I have on you and personally see you expelled."

"Cheer up, mate," Remus said, tossing his armful of Jelly Slugs onto the counter. "She'll come around … eventually."

* * *

An awkward silence fell at the table when Sirius, Remus, and Meadowes left. James glanced sidelong at Lily, but she was staring off into space. Or maybe she was looking at Garry and Piper, who had finally shown up in Hogsmeade.

James groped around for something to say, but everything that popped into his head seemed ghastly inappropriate now that he knew Lily better. She didn't appreciate the vanities that most of her former girlfriends had thrived on. And, frankly, he felt like an idiot trying to come up with compliments.

_Lily, your hair is red … Lily, you hair is shiny … Lily, your eyes are green … Lily, your eyes are _soo_ green … Lily, you're kind of short …_

James successfully stifled a groan. He was so pathetic! He couldn't even flatter the girl he had liked for six years. He became painfully aware that Padfoot had kept the conversation going before with witty anecdotes about practical jokes, and Moony had helped him along by providing intelligent insight into the theories of these jinxes.

_This is great, Potter, you finally get Lily to sort of go out with you, and now what? You're just going to sit here?_

"So, Lily, do you know when Dorcas is going to give her yearly lecture to the third-years?"

James was proud of himself for two reasons: One, he had found a suitable topic of conversation. Two, it didn't involve using anyone's surname. And three, it seemed to impress Lily that he was talking about something other than himself.

"Yeah, she's doing it the middle of May. Professor Vaine wasn't overly thrilled about letting a sixth-year teach a class on werewolves, but Dumbledore told her that he had made a deal with Dorcas two years ago and he was going to stand by his decision."

"Does she want A.W.E. there again?"

"You know, I don't think she does. She asked us last year for moral support, in case any of the rug rats got out of control or went on about Dark creatures, but she handled them pretty well."

James snorted. After last year's lecture, the Marauders had gained a new respect for Dorcas. Before fourth-year, she had been just another Hufflepuff that Padfoot fancied, but after creating the Association for Werewolf Equality, she was a bona fide political dissident, and nothing made the Marauders happier than flouting authority. Then, she had given her first lecture about werewolf rights. James had to laugh just thinking about it. Those Slytherin brats never knew what hit them. They were still afraid of her two years later, and any Hufflepuff that could make herself feared by the Slytherins was a hero in James's book.

"Do you want another butterbeer?"

Lily glanced between her empty bottle and James. She had agreed to meet him for one drink, but now that they were talking, she wasn't sure she wanted to leave. But she didn't want to give him false hope either. She refused to spend time with an arrogant jerk who insisted on pontificating about his own greatness. But there was none of that now …

"Sure."

When James returned with two more drinks, the conversation lulled once more. Lily was struggling for anything to say. She and James had never said more than twenty words to each other in civil tones. It felt like the world had flipped and she was groping for a way to orientate herself to these new circumstances.

"What's the prospect for the Quidditch tournament?" Lily asked.

James seemed shell-shocked, and it took Lily a minute to realize that she'd just asked about Quidditch. It seemed a natural thing to do, though, to ask about James's interests. She wasn't genuinely interested in all the technical details of the upcoming match, but she did want Gryffindor to win.

"I thought about organizing the younger students," she explained, "you know, pendants and signs and things like that. Muggles have all these gimmicks were they gets into rows and each person has a letter on their shirt—or on their bare chest—that spell out the team or a player. Dorcas thinks it's ridiculous, but I thought it might cheer the team on."

James continued to gape. Lily Evans was turning into a _cheerer_? Or … no, wait, that wasn't what Muggles called them. Cheerleader, that was it.

"I'm scheduling all the practices I can, but Meade is booking up the pitch like crazy. He seems to think we'll tie and then it'll be Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw for the Cup."

"Five Quidditch games?" Lily asked skeptically. "That's never happened before. Who's to say Dumbledore won't award both Houses the Cup?"

James shrugged. "Meade, I guess."

"He's a real idiot."

"I heard he got an O on the Field Study."

Lily blushed scarlet. She felt the heat radiated from her cheeks and the back of her neck. It made her furious that one sentence from James could fluster her so badly.

"Dumbledore said that was part of my punishment," she mumbled, "not getting the credit for my work. And … other things besides."

"No Head Girlship for you, huh?"

"Oh, I think it's pretty obvious that Dorcas and Remus will be the next Head Girl and Boy."

James grinned and nodded. "And neither of them suspect a thing do they? They're too modest to give themselves that much credit."

They finished their butterbeers in easy conversation. They talked mostly about their friends and speculated about how Professor Vaine would lose her job (it was inconceivable that any Defense teacher would stay for more than a year).

When they left the Three Broomsticks, they hovered under the awning for a moment. Lily knew where Dorcas was headed and that her best friend would be aching to get away from Black, but now that it came to it, she didn't really want to end her afternoon with James. He had made her laugh with his wild theories and amazed her with his philosophical insight about the psychology of friendship. He was much, much more than Lily could have ever imagined.

"I think our friends will still be at Honeyduke's," James said.

He wasn't looking forward to ending the semi-date with Lily, but he didn't want to push his luck by asking her to do something else. She would probably think him impertinent and go back to scowling at him every waking moment. So, he made the suggestion of where she could find Dorcas and left the rest up to her.

"Right … they will be."

Lily's mind was made up in an instant. She was Lily Evans, damn it, she never hesitated. The last time she had, she ended up posing at Garry Meade for five days. That was not going to happen to her ever again.

"I heard Zonko's is having a sale. I've been dying to slip Dorcas a Personality Quill, but we always go together so I've never bought one."

James stared at her for a full minute. A Personality Quill? A device that wrote brutally honest statement like "I act like I have a quill jammed up my posterior" instead of the owner's name? No way. Lily would never, never be that cruel … unless she and Dorcas pulled jokes on each other like he and Padfoot did.

"All right, then. I need a few supplies too."

* * *

The day in Hogsmeade passed too quickly for all of the students on the Field Study.

Tallulah moped around most of the day, having been unceremoniously abandoned by Snape and Dorthea. She fully expected the day to turn out miserable and to go back to the castle early. But as she was heading back to High Street, she was spotted by Alecto Carrows and was dragged into the Hog's Head for the afternoon.

Garry and Piper had only arrived for a half day after Professor Flitwick had found them stuffed into a broom cupboard and sent them off to the village. He didn't seem at all perturbed at finding two Ravenclaws, one a prefect, in such an untoward place. He only chuckled and mumbled something about Arden.

Severus and Dorthea visited every supply shop in town and verbally abused every place when they left. They spent the better part of the day by the stile on High Street discussing the merits of different vendors in Knockturn Alley and the punishments they had received for visiting those places without parental supervision when they were younger.

Peter and Annabel stayed at Madam Puddifoot's all day. Even though there were no Hogwarts students to see them, rumor soon had it that they held the record for longest snog session in public. They returned to the castle over an hour late and Professor Sprout took ten points from Hufflepuff and Gryffindor, but they swore that she was smiling while she did so.

Dorcas, Sirius, and Remus spent the rest of the day alternately enjoying and tolerating each other's company. They saw Lily and James in Zonko's, but Sirius cast a Silencing Charm on Dorcas when she professed her best friend a traitor and she, in turn, hit him with a fantastic Deformation Jinx.

"I had a good time today, Lily," James said.

The portrait of the Fat Lady waited impatiently for them to give the password. She had already endured verbal abuse when a grotesquely deformed Sirius Black had demanded entrance. That prefect, Remus Lupin, hadn't been much help, laughing at his friend's bulbous nose, numerous warts, and unibrow.

"Yeah … yeah, so did I."

"Maybe—er—we could meet in Hogsmeade again?"

Lily bit her bottom lip. Oh, Merlin, he was asking her out for real! She fidgeted for a moment, then nodded slightly. The apprehension on James's face melted into euphoria.

"But we don't have anymore Hogsmeade weekends."

"Oh, right." He paused for a moment. "Could I …" He cleared his throat and glanced around, as if making sure no one was around to hear his suggestion. "Could I write to you over the summer?"

Lily smiled genuinely. "Yeah, I'd like to hear from you, James."

**The End**


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